Elegy

Lovely Day
On this lovely day, the sun does rise, Gently painting the sky with hues so wise. Birds sing softly, their melodies sweet,
By Abbas2 years ago in Poets
Celebrating the doom of independence
Celebrating the doom of independence Liberation in its precipice gallops in the abyss of glee, Callous whispers of unserved justice writhe the soul with pain that abhors the plea
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
Nimai's Temple
In a small village nestled among the lush green fields of Bengal, lived a young boy named Nimai. His world was simple, confined to the narrow paths winding through the paddy fields, the dense bamboo groves, and the occasional banyan tree where the village elders gathered to discuss everything from the upcoming harvest to tales of the supernatural.
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Poets
Regret
Regret was a weight that did grow, From seeds that were planted long ago. Choices once made, Now in shadows stayed, And haunted the mind with their woe.
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Poets
Heartbreak
There once was a heart split in pain, Where love left a lingering stain. Each beat felt the tear, Of a dream laid bare, As it danced in the cold, bitter rain.
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Poets
Loneliness
In a room where the silence would creep, Loneliness lulled the heart to weep. With shadows as friends, And no love to mend,
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Poets
Loss of a Loved One
There once was a heart torn in two, By a loss that the soul deeply knew. Though the tears often fall, Fond memories still call,
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Poets
Rising Sun. Content Warning.
If tomorrow starts without me, Who will notice? Who will stand by my graveside, Who will weep? Faces flash through my mind,
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Poets
Indonesia's independence
From depths of emerald, where waters embrace the sky, A phoenix rose, with spirit soaring high. Indonesia, a tapestry woven with grace,
By Moharif Yulianto2 years ago in Poets
**Sunday**
Sunday breaks with golden hue, A canvas painted fresh and new. The gentle sun dispels the night, A tranquil dawn in morning light.
By Abbas2 years ago in Poets
**Midnight**
At midnight’s hour, the world stands still, A silent pause beneath the chill. The moon ascends, a silver gleam,
By Abbas2 years ago in Poets
Scars to your beauty
What magnitude of pain can hurt? What is the measuring capacity of the human heart to bear, to accumulate in its precipice before it finally seeks redemption, before it concludes to itself no more? How ironic and disbarring it is to moan about the loss of someone after their demise after they bury themselves on the deathbed or even more unbearing when they bury themselves in their essence. If they bury themselves in their breaths, they break their souls, they pierce their hearts and shed every ounce of their aching identity that constitutes their trace.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets