Ballad

The dragon next to me
He intertwined the course of my life with the threads of love, strength, and guidance—this woman whose presence illuminated my path like a radiant dragon. I got through the maze of existence along with its guidelines. He wasn’t as strong a figure as a myth and legend, but the point had the same power over me. He was the power of nature, an indicator of hope, and a source of indefinable support.
By LASZLO SLEZAK2 years ago in Poets
reef knot
your virtue interlock with the sense of reliance bridging the musing path and its root, that I believe will never devalue
By Mufiida2 years ago in Poets
India- The food for our soul is love
India is the land of diverse cultures. Where we live submerged in the sweetness of nuanced flavors of customs that make us alive. Lost in a land of fondness, enriched by the tenderness of beliefs we all are different in existing realities, but there is one thing that binds us together-food. To relish the sweetness of life, we often taste the bitter vinegar of adversities. The melodious cacophony of joy radiates on our abode when the hours of plight grind the periphery of our strength.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
Into the Abyss
On the seventh of October 1849, a vigorously inebriated man was tracked down lying in the drain outside a bar in Baltimore, and as is conventional with inebriated men in drains, this one cut a genuinely unremarkable figure. He was murmuring to himself unintelligibly; all in all, he might have been any savored any drain anyplace on the planet. In any case, this man wasn't simply anybody; he was Edgar Allan Poe, quite possibly of the best author who's always lived. Precisely the way in which he wound up in that drain in 1849 remaining parts quite possibly of the greatest secret throughout the entire existence of writing. Presently, I can read your mind; isn't it horrendous clear the way in which a very tipsy man wound up in a drain outside a bar? In any case, hold on for me, since this plot is about Poe.
By Euphoria 2 years ago in Poets
The Gentle Beast
From the east he roams Having never found a home of his own Always dragging his stone with him Wherever he goes it goes
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Ocean's Inquiry Poem
Who am I today? Who am I tomorrow? What breaking wave will swallow me whole? What moment of stillness will I try to behold?
By Daphsam2 years ago in Poets
Lilac and Rose and Indigo Blue. Top Story - March 2024.
You said yes in a sea filled with nos You brought me a poem I gave you a rose 🌹💙🪻 So perfect together Like sunshine and flowers
By Rick Henry Christopher 2 years ago in Poets
The Cello
(Start music from the beginning) Elegant and forlorn, the cello sings its sorrowful tune With each bow stroke, it tells a story of pain and doom
By B2 years ago in Poets
Bitter Greens
Bitter greens Slithering unseen Through my dreams A strenuous subcutaneous existence Complaisance in a crime of the mind
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Love Language
Listening to slow jams in other languages I don’t speak their language But they hear all that languishes in my heart They cut through the pain
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
The atrocious contradiction of existence
The atrocious contradiction of existence How ironically does existence glare at our agony Drawing its muse in the hours of our ecstasy
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
Do not go gentle into the good night
In the cosmic tapestry of existence, Dylan Thomas wove verses that transcended mortality. "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" emerged as a clarion call, a sonorous rebellion against the inevitability of fading light. Within its lines, a cosmic battle unfolded, pitting mortal fragility against the relentless march of time.
By Peculiar Beauty2 years ago in Poets