Song Lyrics
Ions of the Ocean Birds of a Feather
Today upon awakening I heard Sweetie Bird, my parakeet tweet. I turned on the news! Although I do not live by the ocean in Riverside, I am addicted to the ocean as a powerful source of positive energy. The song was in my head all morning. So, I wrote it down as poetry turning it into a song to accompany the video story. This is not about me! It is about creating a time for meditation in this chaotic dystopian world on Earth in the year 2025. I used a lot of my photos and videos as well as my routine animation from my and wild imagination from my dreams. It is not about me! It is about humanity.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Whispers of the Heart: Simple Poems for Everyday Feelings
Introduction Poetry doesn't have to be complex or filled with fancy words. Sometimes, the simplest lines can touch the deepest parts of our hearts. This collection of poems captures everyday emotions and experiences, using straightforward language to connect with readers.
By Muhammad Farhad Khanabout a year ago in Poets
A Room That Forgot How to Echo
The clock in the hallway hadn’t ticked in three years. But Mia still wound it every Sunday morning, like muscle memory that refused to forget. The same way she left the porch light on at night. The same way she kept his shoes by the door.
By Shakil Sorkarabout a year ago in Poets
"The Last Cup of Coffee"
The bell above the door chimed as Elena stepped into the tiny café on 7th Avenue, brushing snow from her coat and pulling the scarf tighter around her neck. The place was warm, humming with quiet conversations and the soft hiss of the espresso machine. She ordered her usual — one black coffee, one oat milk latte — and took a seat by the window.
By Shakil Sorkarabout a year ago in Poets
The Light Between Two Windows
It was the kind of winter in New York City where even the streetlights looked tired. Snow clung to the sidewalks like forgotten promises, and the city pulsed quietly beneath its usual roar. Somewhere in the East Village, in an aging brownstone split into narrow apartments, two strangers lived across from one another, separated by little more than thirty feet of air and glass.
By Shakil Sorkarabout a year ago in Poets
