“Then I looked on all my works that mine hands had wrought, and on the travail that I had labored to do: and behold, all is vanity and vexation of the spirit: and there is no profit under the sun.” --The Book of Ecclesiastes, 2:11
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Jujubes bob above the surface Rust red suns on a liquid horizon Thin, translucent crowns around mushrooms Glistening brown caps
By Wen Xiaosheng2 years ago in Poets
The dawn unfurls its golden light, Chasing shadows of the night. Eyes flutter open, dreams recede, To greet the day with gentle heed.
By Abbas2 years ago in Poets
The naïve observer will mistake this For a scene of diabolical crime But this is not a cruel bite; a kiss Would better characterize this strange time
In shadows deep where secrets lie, A truth awaited, veiled in the guise. I sought the light, the hero's call,
I’m on a journey A journey of yearning Is this something I’ve been earning So many days have past Full of reflection Wondering what direction I’m going
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Follow the leads where shadows play, To dawn’s embrace and twilight’s sway, The secrets of the breaking day.
In the warmth of the sun, where joy brightly swayed, We laughed as our worries and troubles allayed. Laughter like music, a melody so pure,
In the weight of the moment, where burdens are bared, The world feels so heavy, and hearts are ensnared. Loaded with dreams, with worries and fears,
In the heart of a nation, dreams unfurl wide, A tapestry woven with threads of pride. From the peaks of the mountains to the ocean's embrace,
In the quiet of dawn, where dreams softly tread, A completed work rests, its journey well-spread. Each line and each verse, a tale finely spun,
A poem is a garden where thoughts gently bloom, In verses that wander, dispelling the gloom. Lines trace the contours of a hidden dream,
