Samii

"Bonedog" by Eva H.Dis a poignant poem that delves into the themes of grief, memory, and the passage of time. The poet uses vivid imagery and emotional resonance to depict the narrator's experience of loss, as they grapple with the absence of a beloved companion, the titular "Bonedog." Through metaphors and introspection, the poem explores the ways in which memories are preserved and transformed,...

April| Mikael De lara co

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the l...

Every morning when I wake, Dear Lord, a little prayer I make, O please do keep Thy lovely eye On all poor creatures born to die And every evening at sun-down I ask a blessing on the town, For whether we last the night or no I’m sure is always touch-and-go. We are not wholly bad or good Who live our lives under Milk Wood, And Thou, I know, wilt be the first To see our best side, not our worst. O le...

Like most of Charles Bukowski’s other works, Bluebird is a straightforward, hard-hitting, and rather gut-tugging poem. A literary punch to the gut. A hyper-dose of reality, so to speak. In this poem, Bukowski speaks of a bluebird in his heart. A bluebird that he repeatedly smashes down to hide away from prying eyes. He is too tough for the bluebird, he pours whiskey on it, smokes it down with ciga...

A poem by ~Tehzeeb hafi 💐

A poem written by Tehzeeb Hafi 💐

No smoke without you, my fire.  After you left,  your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray  and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey  I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal  of so much love. One cigarette  in the non-smoker's tray.  As the last spire  trembles up, a sudden draught  blows it winding into my face. Is it smell, is it taste?  You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacc...

Teri khushbuu nahin milti, tera lehja nahin milta, Humen to sheher main koi tere jaisa nahin milta, Yeh kesi dhund main hum tum safar aghaaz kar bethe, Tumhe ankhen nahin milti, humen chehra nahin milta, Har ik tadbeer apni raayegaan thehri mohabbat main, Kisi bhi khawb ko tabeer ka rasta nahin milta, Bhala us ke dukhon ki raat ka koi mudaava hai, Woh maan jis ko kabhi khoya hua bacha nahin milta....

About the poem: ‘No Leaders Please' is a poem by Charles Bukowski, it's from one of his books, 'The Pleasures of the Damned'. This poem is a reminder to remain a free spirit and never letting anyone else decide who you are. The tags that people provide you don't define you and that your independence is yours and yours alone. Although the poem doesn't mention leaders, the title does, and the conten...

Agha Shahid Ali, an Indian-American Kashmiri poet, was born on 4 February 1949, New Delhi, India. He was born in a respected Agha family of Srinagar. Shahid was schooled at the Burn Hall School later he went to University of Kashmir and Hindu college, University of Delhi. He left for United States in 1976 and in 1984 he earned a PhD in English from Pennsylvania state university and in 1985 an M.F....

] "On the Necessity of Sadness" - 💐Mikael de Lara Co 💐 Let me tell you about longing. Let me presume that I have something new to say about it, that this room, naked, its walls pining for clocks, has something new to say about absence. Somewhere the crunch of an apple, fading sunflowers on a quilt, a window looking out to a landscape with a single tree. And you sitting under it. Let go, said you...

Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines) Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.' The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless...

Alone is a poem that offers the reader a glimpse into the mind of Edgar Allan Poe. He was often seen as being different, and his writing, in many cases, was so dark that it alienated him. In this poem, he acknowledges that from a very young age he knew that he was different. He goes on to say that he never enjoyed the things that others did and he never found sorrow in that which others did. Poe d...

This is dedicated to all the broken and hopless one's out there,i justt want to tell you that hold on dont let go,the dawn is coming and everything will be alright,dont let the warrior die in you....you will make it, believe in yourself ✊

"Yaad usey bhi ik adhora afsana hoga"