love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
No More Promises
🎵 No More Promises(Translated version)No more promises...Just hope you come back,And let the old days fade behind,Let Eid arrive with joy anew,And no more past upon your mind.Oh, tender heart,I’ve known a love so deep, so wide,No thought deservesTo waste our yearsOn tears we tried to hide.I see your eyes,They speak, they vow,Yet still, you drift away somehow.My soul is yours—It beats your name.Even in your coldest flame.So no more promises...Just hope you come back,And let the past dissolve in light,Let peace return,Let wrongs turn right,And may your heart come back tonight.
By Ali Sadeek Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
The Library of Lost Pages
In the village of Chandpur, tucked between rice paddies and monsoon-soaked hills, books were a quiet rebellion. The villagers worked from dawn to dusk, their hands calloused from plows and nets, their lives bound by the rhythm of seasons. Reading was a luxury, frowned upon by elders who saw it as idleness, a distraction from the labor that kept Chandpur alive. But for Lila, books were air, and without them, she’d suffocate.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
the pride bus
Beauty is around me today because a woman on the bus says so. She says sorry for interrupting and it’s funny how that’s a conversation just the same. I tell her where I work and to ask for me if she comes by and I know her bus stop so it’s okay to share. When she gets off she complains everyone else is too loud (they are) and she’s a stranger so I forgive her. Customers tell me I complement myself and I gladly take credit for it. I say it’s day three without a wash and they differ because they’ll never see me again. It still feels like purpose swims through time because we all like beautiful things. Even when it’s trapped outside our skin. Even when it takes a stranger and the right lighting and it’s okay for me to say because I’ve never been good with performances. Just because I sound different doesn’t mean I am and just because the bus is loud doesn’t mean I can’t make a friend.
By Olivia Dodgeabout a year ago in Poets
