Two buds entwined, yet yearning to be free,
These jealous earphones, longing company.
We nestle in ears, a portal to sound,
But the faces we see, rarely turn around.
Melodies weave, a world built for one,
While the symphony of life, goes sadly outrun.
A tap on the shoulder, a glance, a small smile,
A connection much deeper, for a little while.
Not just the rhythm, but the laughter, the sighs,
The whispers that blossom beneath open skies.
To feel the emotion, that music ignites,
Reflected in eyes, bathed in warm sunlight.
More than just music, these jealous buds crave,
A partner in listening, a life to be saved.
For in the sweet symphony, of moments we share,
The greatest music plays, when someone truly cares.
About the Creator
Buzu
Verses sculpted from the heart, I'm a poet navigating emotions with ink-stained fingertips. Crafting tales that dance between reality and dreams, my words paint a symphony of feelings in the canvas of life. 📜✨ #PoetLife #Wordsmith
Poetry: What Is It?
**Poetry: What Is It?** Have you ever wondered what makes a poem a poem? Poetry is a vast and diverse genre of writing, making it challenging to pin down a single definition. Essentially, poetry is a form of imaginative writing. People compose poems to creatively express thoughts and feelings about various subjects. The aim of poetry is to captivate the reader’s imagination or evoke specific emotional responses.
By Nina Sanftmutabout 18 hours ago in Poets
Can You Drive a Ford Fiesta Through a Desert?
I’m flying down the B1 highway from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop with a map and a boot full of camping gear. I’m excited for the first stop of my Namibian road trip: the Quiver Tree Forest. I spot the sign and turn onto the C17, off the tarmac and onto the gravel. I’ll be there soon; it’s only ten miles or so. I am unprepared for what comes next. The car slides and slips across the road. I am not fully in control anymore. I slow to a crawl. The car judders and shudders, the noise deafening, the vibrations rattling the teeth in my skull. It takes me around an hour to drive the ten miles. I arrive at the campsite relieved to be in one piece, even if it feels like all my bones have been shaken slightly out of place. I will later learn that this is what happens when the gravel road becomes “corrugated”, and that the roads authority goes round once a week to “grade” them. Seems I arrived about 6 days after the grader had last been round.
By Jenifer Nim5 days ago in Wander
Comments (2)
"A partner in listening, a life to be saved." This is soooo true! Loved your poem!
LOVELY!! So much world around us without earbuds.