love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
Believe in Thee
Remember the times when we would yearn for certain things and beings to foster their being into our lives, where what we wanted was so far-fetched, dreams that we found so unfathomable to forge their breaths in our lives? It is wondrous and almost astonishing how existence in the most unimaginable ways, how we fathom that something we can never live without, life always turns out for the better when we let go of what no longer serves us, of what we can no longer control or any experience, person, entity or situation that we outgrow in our existential being.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
When the Wind Carries Your Name
When the Wind Carries Your Name In a quiet village by the sea, there lived a woman named Elara. Her life was simple, filled with the ebb and flow of the tides, the sounds of waves crashing against the shore, and the constant whisper of the wind. Yet, there was something magical about the way the wind seemed to carry more than just the scent of salt and the promise of rain—it carried memories, names, and stories.
By Dinesh Maurya2 years ago in Poets
The Silence Between Heartbeats
The Silence Between Heartbeats In a quiet village surrounded by old, towering hills, there lived a boy named Rowan. His days were simple, spent tending to sheep, playing by the river, and wandering the fields. Life in the village moved slowly, marked by the steady rhythm of time: the rising sun, the tolling church bell, and the beating of his own heart. Yet Rowan often felt something strange in the quiet moments between those beats, as if the world was trying to tell him a secret.
By Dinesh Maurya2 years ago in Poets
THE OPEN SEE
victorm5356's profile picture-I had posted this on my instagram so thought I would share it here. I couldn't remember why I titled it THE OPEN SEE..til I re-read it. One of my memories is a beautiful girl on a bench in HS with such beauty and another named Suzanne a few years younger than I who left her mark. Another beauty imprinting another memory which is the portal of time open to see your past-got it? Only the regrets are left..
By Victor Mendez2 years ago in Poets
