#Poetry

482120 posts
  • jlaine 1h

    Peace in the Valley

    Peace in the valley, a rare moment indeed;
    Nights aglitter with hope, days burgeoning with creed;
    By the sheer grace of God, one may only perceive
    The resounding resplendency of a heart made clean;
    Such peace in the valley, a rare moment once grieved,
    Now abides in my spirit, forever renewed, forever freed.

    ©jlaine

  • _ugra_ 1h

    न चुप रहो, कुछ बोलो ना,
    इस गहरे सन्नाटे को तोड़ो ना।
    मैं चुप हूँ क्योंकी आदत है मेरी,
    तुम कहाँ खोई हो,भेद खोलो ना।
    ~उग्र
    ©_ugra_

  • simranbawa 2h

    Undue Love

    If to be, or not to be, that is the question,
    Then I shall live on to love you with my all.
    I shall live on to dwell and dive in this mystically miserable musing.
    Mystical, as it
    Yearns for your sight,
    Burns in your light
    And hurts so right.
    Miserable, as it implores to
    Seek you your solace,
    Beseech you your happy place,
    And be your peace without a face.
    Yes, you are a musing indeed
    For you can only be felt,
    Not meant to be held.
    For those who care to ask,
    There is no such feeling as fine,
    This love shall never unmask,
    To begin with, you were never mine.
    In loneliness, I loved
    In silence, I succumbed.
    Fiercely, I flew
    And as I write to you
    My love shall remain undue.
    ©simranbawa

  • deepesh__786 2h

    Ignited the fire.
    You have ignited the fire of hate so much,
    This is not love, Meena is just infidelity..!
    Dil se block mein aapko bhi and aaj kar du.
    I will love you for my lifetime..!!
    @lily_love @belovedwish @secret_soul_108
    @kanchanjha @desire_at_fire @garima_jackson
    @satrangi @goldenwrites_jakir
    @blog_writer_nishasilodiya @barbad
    #writersnetwork #mirakee #poetry #poems #poet #love #writerstolli #poem #shayari #love #hindi #panchdoot #hindilekhan #Bawali_si_sister

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    Ignited the fire.

    नफ़रत की आग तुमने इस कदर लगाई है,
    ये प्यार नही है मेरी जान सिर्फ़ बेवफ़ाई हैं..!
    दिल से ब्लॉक में तुम्हें अभी और आज कर दु।
    लाइफटाइम लव करूंगा ये कसम मैंने तेरी खाई हैं..!!

    ©deepesh__786

  • authorsahiilkatoch 3h

    Devastation

    He is on the door
    He is breathing flames
    And I have already told you
    You should be running
    He is coming with a wrath and rescue
    There will be no voices left in the world
    For what you kidnapped me
    Will cost a devastation....
    A pure devastation

    - your world is about to end
    ©authorsahiilkatoch

  • kp_singh 3h

    झूठ बोलते हैं लोग
    आज भी कुछ लोग सच्ची मोहोबत करते हैं,
    यूं ही नहीं शायर अपने दर्द की स्याही से किताबें भरते हैं!
    People lie,
    Even today some people do true love,
    Not like that, poets fill books with the ink of their pain! -Kps©2022

    #poets #truelove #pain #poetry #lovepoems #kpspoetry #kpsquotes #kpsshayari

    Read More

    झूठ बोलते हैं लोग
    आज भी कुछ लोग सच्ची मोहोबत करते हैं,
    यूं ही नहीं शायर अपने दर्द की स्याही से किताबें भरते हैं!
    People lie,
    Even today some people do true love,
    Not like that, poets fill books with the ink of their pain!
    ©kp_singh

  • pensouls_eden 3h

    अकेले संभलने की आदत जो लग गई
    रूहों को बिछड़ने के बहाने कई मिल गए
    रोशनी का पीछा करते हुए हम
    अंधेरों में अजनबियों की तरह घुल गए


    ©pensouls_eden

  • ajayamitabh7 4h

    #Poetry #Kavita #Duryodhan #Epic #Poetry _on_Duryodhan #Ashvtthama #Mahabharata #Shiva #Mahakal

    दुर्योधन कब मिट पाया:भाग-31

    जिद चाहे सही हो या गलत  यदि उसमें अश्वत्थामा जैसा समर्पण हो तो उसे पूर्ण होने से कोई रोक नहीं सकता, यहाँ तक कि महादेव भी नहीं। जब पांडव पक्ष के बचे हुए योद्धाओं की रक्षा कर रहे जटाधर को अश्वत्थामा ने यज्ञाग्नि में अपना सिर काटकर हवनकुंड में अर्पित कर दिया  तब उनको भी अश्वत्थामा के हठ की आगे झुकना पड़ा और पांडव पक्ष के बाकी बचे हुए योद्धाओं को अश्वत्थामा के हाथों मृत्यु प्राप्त करने के लिए छोड़ दिया ।

    Read More

    दुर्योधन कब मिट पाया:भाग:31
    क्या  यत्न  करता उस क्षण जब युक्ति समझ नहीं  आती थी,
    त्रिकाग्निकाल से निज प्रज्ञा मुक्ति का  मार्ग  दिखाती  थी।   
    अकिलेश्वर को हरना  दुश्कर कार्य जटिल ना साध्य कहीं,
    जटिल राह थी कठिन लक्ष्य था  मार्ग अति  दू:साध्य कहीं।

    अतिशय साहस संबल  संचय  करके भीषण लक्ष्य किया,
    प्रण धरकर ये निश्चय लेकर निजमस्तक हव भक्ष्य किया।
    अति  वेदना  थी तन  में  निज  मस्तक  अग्नि  धरने  में ,
    पर निज प्रण अपूर्णित करके  भी  क्या  रखा लड़ने  में?

    जो उद्भट निज प्रण का किंचित ना जीवन में मान रखे,
    उस योद्धा का जीवन रण में  कोई  क्या  सम्मान रखे?
    या अहन्त्य  को हरना था या शिव के  हाथों मरना था,
    या शिशार्पण यज्ञअग्नि को मृत्यु आलिंगन करना था? 

    हठ मेरा  वो सही गलत क्या इसका मुझको ज्ञान नहीं,
    कपर्दिन  को  जिद  मेरी थी  कैसी पर था  भान कहीं।
    हवन कुंड में जलने की पीड़ा सह कर वर प्राप्त किया,
    मंजिल से  बाधा हट जाने का सुअवसर प्राप्त किया।

    त्रिपुरान्तक के हट जाने से लक्ष्य  प्रबल आसान हुआ,
    भीषण बाधा परिलक्षित थी निश्चय हीं अवसान हुआ।
    गणादिप का संबल पा  था यही समय कुछ करने का,
    या पांडवजन को मृत्यु देने  या उनसे  लड़ मरने  का।
    अजय अमिताभ सुमन:सर्वाधिकार सुरक्षित

  • grossett1 5h

    Magnetic Connection

    I swear I can feel your energy how you need me how you  long for me even though were miles away. How you yearn for my kiss my tender embrace. It's like our hearts are interlocked there’s a tingle down my spine. Vivid images  of you and me unlocking our hidden emotions in heated bed of intimacy there are no penalties everything is fair game. As my heart begins to race. If this is what love is I'm speechless just cant find the words to describe this connection that we share. How we can communicate and lips never move not a whisper not a sound and yet I can still hear. How two can be so different and yet one of the same. I swear…
    ©grossett1

  • taytay_nicole424 6h

    With dandelions woven through her icy hair
    And clouds lining her pale feet
    She dances with the stars
    Till she feels weightless and free
    ©taytay_nicole424

  • jlaine 6h

    The boot may galvanize,
    but 'tis the root which sanctifies.

    ©jlaine

  • timvaughn_ 7h

    Calling the prodigals home, the addicts free, families reunited, one church body in Christ united, identities strengthened, Son's and daughter's of God to be steadfast in Christ Jesus, having the armor of God on, obedient cross bearers, warrior's, praying with all diligence, hungry for the word of God, healers, demon destroyers, making sight to the blind, bringing hearing to deaf ear's, causing the dead to rise, preaching the gospel, Kingdom bound, children of the most high God, to arise from their slumber and wake up!!!
    It is time, the war is on!!!
    Sleep not at your stations,
    we need an awake church!!!
    Calling Kingdom bound warrior's,
    Far to many are going to hell,
    Too many suffer and we in Christ Jesus hold the key's to release them from there prisions.
    For we can do ALL thing's through Christ Jesus who strengthens us!!!
    God's Son and Knight,
    Tim Vaughn
    ©timvaughn_

  • ghosti 10h

    a letter to the person who gave birth to me

    When the topic of family

    comes up, I tell people 

    that I am adopted. 

    People usually give me 

    The pity look and ask 

    me what happened. 

    When I start to explain my 

    Situation, People tell me 

    Not to feel like I am unloved. 

    Unnecessary. Unwanted. 

    And if I am completely honest? 

    I would rather be unwanted. 


    I would rather that you 

    and him did not sit down 

    and talk it through. 

    That you and him did not 

    make the conscious decision,

    The sober decision,

    The permanent decision,

    Of having me. 

    I would rather that you 

    stumbled upon the bump 

    in confusion, that you really 

    did not know I was there,

    That you were not trying 

    to kill me from within. 

    I would like to imagine that 

    you were some foolish, naive 

    little girl who was barely an 

    adult, but you were not. 

    You were old enough 

    to make better decisions. 


    You made the selfish decision 

    of picking a needle over me. 

    You chose amber bottles and 

    the syringes and addiction. 

    You chose to go on a venture 

    through the twilight zone,

    And take me along for the ride. 

    I did not deserve that. 

    I did not deserve to be 

    damaged because you 

    went and made mistakes. 

    I am not the mistake. 

    I am not the accident. 

    I am not the thing that 

    “just popped up”- the 

    thing that you can push away. 


    I will always be here, regardless 

    of whether or not you look at me. 

    I am here. I exist. I am real, 

    even if you choose to pretend 

    that I was some drugged-out, 

    not even 9-month hallucination. 

    I am not simply a condition 

    you can go and wish away. 

    A consequence you can 

    go and run away from. 

    Most parents go and 

    give birth to children,

    But you went and gave 

    birth to another statistic. 


    How cruel is it to poke 

    holes in an infant? 

    To rewire and cross-fire 

    their premature brain? 

    To take their opportunities,

    Their chances, their family, 

    all away from them?


    When you realized you 

    could not get rid of me,

    Is that when you chose to fight? 

    Or was that all for show? 

    Is the reason that you ran 

    when you gave birth to her, 

    Is because you had 

    a better replacement? 

    One that you did not screw up, 

    Or ruin or break or just

    One that was not me? 


    Did you think of me when 

    she asked for a sibling? 

    Did you think of me when 

    you tucked her in at night?

    Did you think of me when 

    the other moms asked 

    if she was your only child? 

    Did you think of me when 

    you bought baby clothes, 

    when you rocked her crib, 

    when you were able to take 

    her home in your arms? 


    Am I the “almost” that 

    almost makes you cry, that

    almost makes you feel guilty, 

    that almost makes you regret 

    what you have done? 


    I am not dumb. 

    I know it is foolish to 

    believe you will have 

    some sort of poetic regret, 

    to believe that my ghost 

    plagues your nightmares

    and that my name 

    infests your thoughts. 

    It is outright stupid for me 

    to think you feel bad for all 

    of my issues that have your 

    signature but no return address. 

    How do you even get back at 

    someone for something like this? 

    How can a daughter betray a 

    mother in the same kind of way? 


    Most people identify 

    the four years of high 

    school by their nicknames. 

    Freshman, sophomore, 

    junior, and senior. 

    I identify them by the 

    people I had to forgive 

    each of those years. 

    9th grade : Dad. 

    10th grade : Myself. 

    11th grade : Mum. 

    And for 12th grade, 

    for the end of childhood, 

    for complete closure,

    I decide to forgive you. 


    I forgive you and I let you go. 

    I never even knew I was 

    holding onto your silhouette, 

    But your body looks just 

    like my body, and I am 

    tired of hating myself. 

    Your name feels like a 

    curse word and I am 

    tired of washing my 

    mouth out with soap. 

    And I know I will never 

    say this to you face to face,

    I know I will never get 

    to see you, or maybe I will,

    But I cannot keep looking 

    over my shoulder like you 

    might show up just to hurt me. 


    What I want to say is 

    I am sorry you missed out 

    on the woman I became. 

    I am sorry I missed out on 

    the woman you became. 

    I am sorry we missed out 

    on each other, like two trains 

    in the same state, in the 

    same city, leaving the same 

    station on the same day, 

    we just happened to flip 

    our P’s and our A’s. 

    I am the full, noisy, 

    packed noon trip. 

    You are the quiet, 

    empty, midnight ride. 


    Tell me, 

    Do you picture me 

    in one of those rows? 

    Do I haunt one of 

    those empty seats?  
    ©ghosti

  • ghosti 10h

    to all of the people who call girls pretty

    Right now, as I sit down to 

    write this poem, I am wearing 

    sweatpants and a sweatshirt, 

    my hair is pulled up. 

    And this is not to point and be 

    like “Oh! I am not like the other girls!”

    Because about 50% of the girls 

    at my high school look just like me. 

    I am white, I am blonde, I am 5’5 

    and slouching, I really am basic. 

    I wear glasses and that may be 

    my only distinguishing feature, but 

    I am what everyone would call “average” 

    Average in the nice way. 

    Average in the good way.

    Average in the “almost hot” way. 

    See, while I’m wearing baggy 

    sweat-clothes and I hide my hair, 

    under all of that, I have a body. 

    Some people might 

    consider me only a body. 

    Nothing else but a body. 

    And that is why I do this. 


    My mother asks me in the morning,

    ”Why don’t you wear nice clothes? 

    Why this? I can’t see you in this. 

    You’re drowning in the fabric.” 

    No mom, I’m not drowning in fabric.

    I can breathe just fine. I breathe better 

    in these clothes than I do in anything else. 

    I can afford to breathe in these clothes.

    I tell her it is for comfort, that I am going 

    school and I am there to learn, not to look pretty. 


    She is like,”I get that, but you want people 

    to think you take care of yourself. That 

    you take pride in your appearance.” 

    I take pride in my appearance. 

    I find joy in what I am wearing. 

    What I am wearing may not be unique, 

    but it is me, and me is the best thing I can be. 


    What she means by “you aren’t 

    taking care of you appearance”, 

    Is that “you don’t look pretty enough”. 

    “No one can you see you there.”

    “The guys can’t see you there” 

    And I know she doesn’t want to 

    say it, but that is what she means. 

    And honestly? She is right. 

    The guys don’t see me. 

    And that’s a good thing. 


    Because I am one of the few 

    girls in my grade, in my age group,

    With my body type, and blonde hair, 

    and big chest, and actual hips, with

     a real figure under all of this fabric,

    That has not dealt with 

    harassment on a daily basis. 

    I do not get cat called, I’ve never

    been whistled at, I’ve never been 

    touched inappropriately by a stranger, 

    I've never had someone drive by 

    and go “nice a**!”. I've never had 

    that issue. I’m one of the lucky ones. 

    Most of the people I know have been 

    dealing with that issue since they 

    were 12, since according to others 

    they are women, since nature has taken 

    its course. I haven’t, and I consider that 

    a blessing I am going to try and keep. 

    You think I am blessed by what is

    under my shirt but I think I am blessed 

    because no one has noticed it. 


    Because I am aware. I understand 

    that this is how the world works. 

    I know what I have and that people 

    are looking at me and I don’t 

    want people to look at me. 

    That is the reason I wear these clothes. 

    If I wear clothes that cover all of this 

    up, no one is going to whistle at me. 

    No one is going to see it. 

    If I have no curves, 

    there is nothing to honk at. 

    If I do not stand out, 

    no one is going to step on me. 


    When my mom asks,

    ”Are you getting bad again?”

    She is referring to the years I 

    was dealing with depression. 

    The years I didn’t take care of myself. 

    The weeks I never washed my 

    hair or brushed it and watched 

    it get matted with apathy. 

    I did not get out of bed for days. 

    I gained weight but I never ate. 

    I did not even care. I was too busy 

    trying to figure how everything worked, 

    why I didn’t work, why I was broken. 

    I never worried about what I looked like. 

    I did not try and take care of myself, 

    not even a little bit. 


    So when she asks if I am getting bad 

    again, I looked at myself in the mirror. 

    Do I look sad? Do I look broken? 

    No. I look like a survivor. 

    My hair is brushed, 

    my teeth are cleaned,

    I have the best grades 

    I have had in years,

    I am the best emotionally 

    than I have been in years. 

    I actually remember yesterday, 

    which is an important distinction 

    from years ago, where I was 

    unable to remember a thing. 


    I am saying I am healed and 

    you are telling me I look bad. 

    I am saying that I won, that I am 

    a hero, and you say I look like a slob. 

    I am looking down at everyone from 

    the mountain I’ve climbed, 

    screaming,”Look what I’ve done!”

    And all you ask is why I 

    am not wearing a skirt.  


    The thing is, if I am wearing oversized 

    sweat pants and sweatshirts, they will 

    still envision in me in less clothes. 

    They will picture me in tight shorts 

    and some random skimpy shirt. 

    But if I wear the short shorts and 

    the thin crop top, they will imagine 

    me in nothing but bed sheets. 

    Or worse, in their trunk. 

    And I do not want to deal with that. 


    I went shopping for clothes with 

    my mother because I had lost weight. 

    And no, I did not do it on purpose. 

    Please don’t compliment me. 

    Weight loss is not an achievement 

    but just something that happens. 

    They say that I have gotten skinny 

    but I have always been skinny and 

    it does not even matter if I am. 

    It should not matter if I 

    am a size 6 or 10 or 13. 

    It should not matter if I fit inside 

    the Barbie doll box you made for me. 

    Regardless of if it is 120 or 150 pounds, 

    I still have a body to hide. 


    So I am going to get clothes because 

    the ones I have do not fit me anymore. 

    At least, that is what my mother says. 

    It is probably because she does not 

    like the clothes that I own and is trying 

    to convince me to get something new. 

    It will not work. 


    Then she points out the 

    taboo subject- the undergarments. 

    The bras and the underwear. 

    Shocker- I wear them. We all do. 

    And she is like “oh isn’t that one 

    pretty? Do you like that?”

    It has lace. It is covered in 

    a colorful flower pattern. 

    It is grown up, it is adult. 

    And I am 17. 

    I guess I am a “grown up” now. 

    She wants me to wear 

    those flimsy undergarments. 

    Pretty clothes under my *clothes* clothes. 


    No one is going to see them, I tell her. 

    No one is going to see that- 

    why does it matter if it is pretty?

    She says “It just does.”

    And the unintentional silent answer 

    is because someone might see. 

    I might go home one day and not make it. 

    I might end up in an alley somewhere, 

    and you want the rap*** 

    to commend my fashion choices. 

    You want them to think that’s pretty. 

    I do not want them to think that’s pretty. 


    You think I would look prettier 

    if I wore different clothes. 

    It should not matter what I am wearing-

    Because according to God 

    I am beautiful just the way I am. 

    According to my pastor, 

    I am beautiful the way I am. 

    According to the hundred older men 

    that watch me enter church 

    on Sunday morning, I am beautiful. 

    I do not want to be beautiful


    When people say “You’re pretty”, 

    what they mean is they like looking at you. 

    When they say “You’re beautiful”, 

    what they mean is they want to touch you. 


    What I’m trying to say is I do not want 

    to be seen as something on sale.  

    I do not want people to try and take me. 

    I want to be the item in the store 

    that will never get bought. 

    And what I am not saying that the 

    girl in the short shorts and 

    the crop top is a clearance rack.

    I am saying that we are 

    not clothes for others to try on. 

    I am saying that we are more 

    than just bodies, just skin,

    just something to look at 


    What I want to say to the girl 

    in the nicer clothes than mine,

    Is that I do not think she is pretty. 

    I do not think she is beautiful. 

    I think she is courageous 

    and powerful and full of strength. 


    What I want to say is

    that I am proud of her. 
    ©ghosti

  • sitstillinthecarplease 11h

    Keepsake

    A patter of waves, my hands adrift,
    no silence soothes this graveyard shift.
    My beacon turns and unveils the night
    as I ache for calming in this forlorn rite.
    I’ve no shelter from the maelstrom
    gathering across the sea.
    I’ve known for so many years now
    the fate that falls before me.
    The ocean grants a melancholic gift;
    a patter of waves, my hands adrift.

  • tetnai_ 14h

    Character of my story

    Why does it feel like you are a character of my story,
    When nothing seemed just,you came out of nowhere .
    And I felt there's nothing to feel like "I" am sorry,
    When the end of the tunnel seemed far away,you were like that little photon.
    Why does it feel like you are a character of my story ?
    As if , you know me in depths ,surprisingly better than I do myself !
    And the coincidences are just in-explanatory .
    You definitely are a character of my story .
    Justified would be ,if I met you a few chapters back ,
    Where my sorrows and laughter could be shared .
    But ,I feel like you'll vanish or somehow I will from you ,because of fear and deep affection .
    Because ,it just feels like.
    You are a character of "my" story .
    ©tetnai_

  • sinjanb93 14h

    Her sight

    Glades parted I could see her fierce eyes shining in the sun.
    Slayed from within, my soul decided to run.

    For her majesty was resplendent, and her face was eerily beautiful within a fluttering Mane
    The Savannah croaked in wonderment, the skies filled with rain.

    I sat in reverence of her sight, afraid to meet her eye
    Only not in impunity that I saw myself, but with a heart I cried.
    ©sinjanb93

  • vy_thoughts 15h

    बात थी , तभी बात नही

    वो क्या है? की बेवफा मेरी नींदें थी
    बेवफा थी रात नही,

    सुना है
    की वो सबका है आजकल
    पर आजकल मैं सपनो में भी उसके साथ नही,

    कहां है? कैसा है?
    किसके साथ है? वो ... पता नही
    और ना जानना चाहता

    क्योंकि उसकी जिंदगी में
    अब मेरा किसी भी प्रकार का कोई हाथ नहीं
    क्योंकि मेरी अब आशिको वाली जात नही..!

    By - V¥ "R∆M∆"



    ©vy_thoughts

  • ndeenda_elao 15h

    Prayer

    Dear God
    It has been
    Me and you
    Since birth

    You saw me
    Through things
    I wasn't supposed
    To get through

    You held me
    When times were
    Tough and you
    Toughened me
    Through those times

    You loved me
    When I lacked
    Love and you
    Showed me
    Pure affection

    May I forever
    Be grateful for
    What you have
    Done and what
    You will continue doing

    ©ndeenda_elao

  • popsweety_abi 16h

    Wishes are like cage
    To get those wish
    You have to struggle hard
    Fight, fight
    You may think
    "Let's end"
    But, never give up.
    Raise, have a hope
    Trust the "Time"
    One day or other
    Your wishes come true
    Your soul brightens
    That's life!

    ©popsweety_abi