Villanelle
If It Were in My Power…
If It Were in My Power… If it were in my power,I’d build a city, a magical tower.Where the flutter of doves in their gentle flightWould turn life’s song into endless delight.Where jingling breaths, like anklets, sing,And senses soak in the hues of spring.Where the moon would never fade or wane,And moonlight’s fabric would gently sustainThe barren souls of a thirsty earth,Clothing their hearts with endless worth.A place where certainty reigns supreme,And doubt vanishes like a fleeting dream.Where lips would speak without any fear,No king’s shadow hovering near.Where veins hold no trace of dread,And terror’s whisper would long be dead.No place for fear or shadows of doubt,Where truth meets truth, leaving lies out.Where fireflies guide the night’s dark trail,And jealousy to seasons would fail.Where heights and depths hold no disdain,And envy finds no home to gain.A city where dreams light up the eyes,And darkness flees where joy resides.No night would pass in ignorant haze,No soul would wander in thoughtless daze.No tainted dawn, no fractured sky,No whirlpools in oceans to terrify.No trees or branches, lost and bare,Would feel like strangers, unaware.And birds that chirp through sunny daysWould fear no rain’s destructive gaze.If it were in my hands to decree,A city like this I’d create for thee.Where love untouched by worldly sorrowWould promise a brighter, hope-filled tomorrow.No binds of life to hold us tight,No bitter truths to dim our sight.The harshness of this vast, cruel sphereWould never touch a single tear.Where my breath's freshness would forever reside,In the lotus of your love, my guide.Your beauty would dance in every line,The essence of my verse divine.One fleeting moment would hold an age,A timeless story on life's grand stage.No dirges of grief would cross my throat,No sorrow's hymn would find its note.No innocent blood upon the groundWould leave its mark, no stain profound.This city I’d build, this city so true,
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
The Desolate Evening
The Desolate Evening A sorrowful evening, a grieving heart, and endless solitude, Everywhere stretches the boundless emptiness of loneliness. The leaves and branches have all parted from the trees, Lonely twigs sob silently on their lips. Placing its forehead upon your footprints, Loneliness weeps for hours without pause. In what tone does this sinking heart cry, That loneliness returns time and again, echoing deeply? So familiar is solitude with my existence, That it feels restless now, even in your absence. Whatever sorrow remains in your embrace, Let solitude pour it into the depths of my blood. Our bond was never tied to the joys of bustling crowds, Nor do we have any power over your presence, solitude. Your pride in your desolation may be justified, But spend a few days with me as well, solitude. A ruined heart, memories of you, and the night’s emptiness— All shrouded in the smoke surrounding the grave of solitude.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
What Became Of You ?
What became of you, with your wisdom of life? Why are you silent now? Tell me, what became of you? You parted ways, chasing new destinations, I lost my path after losing you; what became of you? I knew that failure was my destined end, But you had hopes of triumph—what became of you? I joined the race, not to win, but to hear someone say, "What became of you?" Did they ask you too? The battle I fought against fate was yours as well, I couldn’t succeed; what became of you? Seeing you, I thought you were happy and free, But your words revealed a different story—what became of you? I was punished for being different from the rest, You too were unique—tell me, what became of you?
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
Changing The Duvet Cover
Introduction Today I changed the duvet cover and was reminded of the accurate meme above. So I thought I would write a villanelle about the trials and tribulations of doing this. I do wonder whether this should be a Humor Community piece or a Poetry piece but it's only two hundred words or so, so that means Poetry with a Humor tag.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Poets
Create a portrait where I smile while I weep
A Portrait of Tears and Smiles Create a portrait where I smile while I weep, Let sorrow be expressed, but not as a spectacle to keep. No thread of dreams should tangle in these eyes, No clear recognition, no face in disguise. Create a portrait where I smile while I weep, Let sorrow be shared, but no performance to reap. If I am worthy, verify it with someone true, Don’t comfort me if my solace feels untrue. However strong your heart, leave it outside your chest, So when it breaks, no ruins stay suppressed. Let anyone live in my eyes on this one condition: No dream should pave the way towards sleep's submission. Whatever bond we share, let it belong to just you and me, Even my bond with you shouldn't trap you in loyalty.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
You’ll never return, I had to say
You’ll never return, I had to say, You went far away, as I searched each day. For centuries, in valleys, I waited for you, You came for a moment, smiled, then I searched anew. Through these valleys, with snowflakes that fell, Sparks rained all around, while I searched as well. Nights rolled down into the swamp's deep layers, Days sank into the mire, as I searched in despair. The paths were clouded, but I waited in vain, Centuries scorched the earth, while I searched through the pain. You’ll never return, I had to say, You went far away, as I searched each day.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
How can I tell you of my pain?
How can I tell you of my pain? It’s not a story, not so plain. Not a word I can simply write, Not a tale to recite tonight. If wounds they were, I’d lend your care, But scars like these can’t be laid bare. Not a mirror to reflect my plight, For you to see and feel my fight. You ask me, but how can I explain? It’s no secret hidden in a chain. Grief spills over, its burden vast, Like a veil that falls when winds rush past. This weight I carry—how can I share? The aching steps, the heavy air. The load of life upon my frame, Yet onward I walk, all the same. The path ahead, a silent friend, No voice to halt, no time to mend. A search for words to match my grief, But metaphors too fail belief. My heart is captive, trapped by time, Each breath unravels life’s cruel rhyme. Change surrounds, yet chains endure, The thread of pain remains unsure. You think life is fragrant and fair, But you’ve not tasted despair’s despair. You’ve not walked the fields of madness deep, Where centuries of sorrow meet. An unseen melody hums through air, A silent wail, beyond compare. It spreads like dust, a suffocating haze, Binding souls in unending days. Time is ruthless, we all can see, Dancing naked in its decree. Beneath the stars, a burning flame, The whispers of freedom call my name. Yet, staying blind does no one good, Step forth and learn, as you should. See the colours of today’s despair, And how tomorrow’s hopes disappear. People burn in their dreams unmet, With shadows of hunger and unmet debt. In a world of peace that smells of war, People break like waves on a distant shore. Life is no movie for me to show, You’ve asked, but how can I let you know? Nowhere safe, not even trust, Under the weight of loss and dust. The ground we tread, an unseen mine, The night’s decree and day’s decline. Holding torches, we move ahead, While hope flickers, and faith has fled. We dream, though walking blind we stay, Hoping the darkness will fade away. The sun will rise, the ice will melt, And light will conquer the pain we’ve felt. But how can I show you this bloody view, Where doves take flight, their path askew? Come closer now, and I’ll let you see, The scars of time etched deep in me. This world, a shop of tears displayed, Where cries of tomorrow’s hopes have strayed. Lovers tread with dust on their feet, Awaiting time’s cruel, final deceit. How can I tell you, what words can do? Pain isn’t written, it must pass through. Whether it’s mine or yours to bear, A heart feels it—if it truly cares. Once desire rips love’s fragile seam, It can’t be stitched like a broken dream. The sky may bow to kiss the earth, But some stars never align from birth.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
