In finger flowers
It's sitting there
In the chest
Adds honey
On the eyelids
Two suns
Forehead
Blue..
of the honeycomb
On the faculty only
Dira longing.
🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝
Small crab and my chin
from the wave
Running to the wave.
With eyes and mind
I am looking for the end of the ocean...
The materiality of existence
Endless...
With sand.
"Mmm.. I'll see here"
Little lotus finger
With a pebble in the middle
Small oyster.
“..i..give..
I love you, mom”
“Hm..for me,
Ok.. just give me money”
How much do you want?
"That's all".
Bidirectional indicator...
Pull and tighten
“This oyster will cost my life
Girl" I said.
If you
Thanks for reading...
About the Creator
Ahamed Thousif
🌟 Welcome to the realm of exploration, where communities come alive through the power of words! 📚✨ Join me as we embark on a journey to discover the vibrant tapestry of stories and Poems.
VISIT - "MY FOOD BLOG"
Keep reading
More stories from Ahamed Thousif and writers in Poets and other communities.
HER EVERY SIN
He didn’t even realize, as he tucked that wave behind her ear, that he was heaven-sent. Everything she had ever asked for was staring back at her in human form. He was every birthday wish, made of pink candles, feeling the hope in her breath as it brushed past their lips. He was a random thought she’d had on a Sunday, half asleep, wondering if she’d have to make coffee when he finally arrived, not just tea. He was the empty space on the right side of the bed, the side closest to the door. He carried that quiet, fatherly kind of protection, with a hand raised only ever as an offering to help her watch her step. He was built from all the love she had ever given to the wrong places. It flowed through him, pumped through his veins, generously poured out so she would never again feel as though she wasn’t enough. He was quietly kind and never wanted to stand in her spotlight. Every tear that had fallen from her face was sewn into his skin. He knew her heart, her hurt, her every sin. Made in the image of an angel, he must have been. He didn’t even realize it: he was everything she had ever yearned for, and more.
By Yolanda Cristobal 7 days ago in Poets
When the Shelter Closes
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound6 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Great work! Great poem!