Filthy
Poem: The Anthem of Lovers
You are the rose that blooms within my heart, Reviving hope and easing all my pain. You dwell in me, from me you’ll never part, You are my peace, my joy, my sweetest chain. Your eyes, like mirrors of the boundless skies, Shine with a glow more pure than diamond’s gleam. I wandered seas of beauty, seeking ties, Until your love fulfilled my every dream. I shed my tears of love on letters sent, To moonlit skies, where silent longing grew. The gentle moon returned with sweet consent, “Your love shall rise again,” it softly knew. Love is a flame that melts the frozen soul, Yet sweet — the pain it gives, the scars it makes. What harm to hearts that burn to be made whole? Love’s pain creates the dawn that never breaks. You are the breath of morning in my chest, The scent that brings forgotten joy anew. A whisper soft as winds that once caressed The silver bells where dreams like music flew. I loved in you all that I’d never known, About my soul, before your eyes were mine. I thought your being was my very own, And life without you — death, by slow decline. You live within my veins, as ink and fire, The blood of poems, pulse of my desire. How could the stars still shine if you depart? How could my soul find rest when you’re away? I never knew that love would be my art, Until my heart surrendered to your sway. I stand within love’s sea, in silence bound, By passion’s chains, by longing’s endless sound. O night! Your shadow brings her image near, And floods my heart with beauty and with fear. I yearn in silence, though I know the cost — A lover crying for the love he’s lost. I hide my passion deep within my chest, Lest people see my heart and mock my quest. Yet still I dream of you in every place, Your face the moonlight of my lonely space. Sweet memory calls with gentle, fleeting tone, Of times when love was ours — and ours alone. I drank from passion’s cup, a sacred wine, That made my sorrow sing and pain divine. O could there be a path that leads to you, So clear, so straight, so free from all disguise? But love’s a road of thorns that pierce anew, Yet still we walk it, foolish but so wise. I saw in love a message carved in flame, Upon the heart’s cold wall, it wrote your name. Its sighs became the perfume of the air, Reviving hearts that once forgot to care. I loved the silence when your eyes would speak, A speech more soft than any words could seek. I dwelled within each letter that you spoke, Each sound a spark that through my longing broke. Ask not if I could love another’s light — For you are breath, and all my soul’s delight. You are my poem’s birth and its release, I am the story love will never cease. O flower of days, O star of endless night, O hope that shines beyond my mortal sight. I swear my love shall live in secret flame, Hidden, but faithful, constant in your name. Deny me not — my tears are proof and plea, For truth in love is all I wish to be. Between my heart and yours a language flows, That only lovers and the angels know. You dwell in verses like a dream’s soft tone, A child’s pure vision, tender and alone. Love is the birth of poems when they rise, The soul’s own flower under yearning skies. If you are gone, my song will cease to live, My lips grow cold, with nothing left to give. Yet I accept the pain, for love’s true way Is built from tears that cleanse what words can’t say. O source of feeling, I’m a poet bare, Who knows no rhythm when you’re not there. Without your eyes, my poems lose their flame, Their soul, their rhythm, and their name. For every letterorn
By America today about a year ago in Poets
The Pain
If I do not change I only have myself to blame For I am who I am Because of the pain Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
The Tragic Love Story of Qays and Layla
The Tragic Love Story of Qays and Layla True story Long ago, in the deserts of Arabia, in the tribe of Banu ‘Amir, two children were born: Qays ibn al-Mulawwah** and his cousin Layla al-‘Amiriyyah**. From the moment they could walk, they played together among the tents of their tribe, chasing each other across the sands, sharing laughter, and forming a bond that grew stronger with every passing year.
By America today about a year ago in Poets
My Voice. Content Warning.
Feels like I’m stuck in this inferno of what I thought was love. It will never be, abuse is not love it always ends in catastrophe. Coming from a long line of people, a parent who is evil and a group of individuals who wishes to deceive you. You get stuck pained in different strokes, hoping to never commit the worst praying and prying your hands away from the dirt. Listening to the sounds of trouble lurk, as you lay still hoping that you know your worth. Self love only exists from the makeup people wear to hide the pain behind the shadows that kept love hidden, long enough before we met at the time of goodbye. Love shouldn’t make you cry, in love you shouldn’t live a lie, and that’s all I’ve seen, pain overloaded through a man’s fist, yells and screams, plastered walls drug induced ranged, mixed with alcohol. I see you, a person filled with the definitive definition of what he thinks are his own failures, hoping to find a woman weak enough to wail her, just to impale her. Gratitude comes from the grace of my discernment, you have left me cold as the pavement showed me no mercy. Withered away underneath the concrete, the rose still blossoms but no one gets to see what’s bury beneath. I hate that I met you, pain became a staking change where my opportunities didn’t fail you, although, you will never love. My mother will be the judge that gave you the gavel to hurt my heart, you broke me in places because I didn’t know my heart. I gave endlessly to beings who considered me a problem while I suffered through survival. I shadow pain like I’m trying to learn the impossible, how can I forgive when y’all refuse to let me let go. I want to heal and this is what you know. You promise that the end was near only to find out love has gave birth to everything I had begin to fear. The mirrored light is only a reflection of a soul you tried to bury and leave the corpse hidden behind a wooded area hoping that I was Jesus’s bride and not carried. Using the Bible for more than a conscious effort, and teaching the word to my beneficiaries. I hate this sorrow and I’m not sorry for not loving you anymore!
By Charelle Landersabout a year ago in Poets
