One day we come to a point of confusion And don't know what to choose Let's choose what's right instead of what we like Because at least there is an answer in itself
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Poets
When the moment arrives, we must take separate paths To pursue a new journey that surpasses the previous one. Do not view separation as a sorrowful event,
She wakes with dawn, her breath a breeze, A soft exhale through swaying trees. Her fingers paint the sky with light, Blushing clouds in morning’s flight.
By Nuhan Habibabout a year ago in Poets
This isn’t a poem about the Rocky Mountains. It’s about a girl who lost her way, and the man who helped her find it again
By Carolina Borgesabout a year ago in Poets
Green Eyes of the Hawk In the depths of your green eyes is a fierce spark Like a hawk soaring swiftly through the night With a gaze that can pierce the stillness around
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
I walk up and down the yard Waiting for my chance with the herd All keeping such a distance Too far for me to hear their words
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
In a world constantly speaking, shouting, and scrolling, there exists a quiet soul—a poet. The poet is not just someone who writes; they are someone who feels more deeply than most. Their pain turns into verses, their joy into rhythm, and their silence into powerful expression. Where others see words, a poet sees a heartbeat.
By falakabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers of a Forbidden Heart Underneath the stars where shadows dance, Two souls entwined, yet worlds apart. Forbidden whispers make their way,
The Secrets That We Both Keep We sit here, words we shared, some that should not have been heard. Yet still, Secrets we both kept inside our hearts.
Like A Lion With Rabies Golden mane in morning sun, Silent strength, a kingdom won. Eyes that watch the shifting plain, Paws that tread where few remain.
We dream of hands that find our own, When shadows stretch, when winds have grown. We want a voice that softly stands, Beside us in the ghost-wrung lands.
By Kelabout a year ago in Poets
In a town where the wind hums soft through the trees, Lived Durling, a soul at perpetual ease. He walked with a grin and a hat tipped just so,
By Md. Ashraful Azadabout a year ago in Poets
