In the moonlight and under the stars Somehow your face seems clearer I revere your presence and remember We are warriors Thrusted onto this plane We are strong We must use our strength While bearing c...
Traveling down a road of self-destructionWith no room for any reconstruction
everything that is scatteredcomes together in wordseverything that is lostcomes back in poetry.
i am not a jealous person,but when i am with you,the thought of someone elsepulling your attention away from mekills me a little insideeach time.
With the need for the self in the time of another / I left my seaport grim and dear / knowing good work could be made / in the state governed by both Hope and Despair.
When I no longer have your heartI will not request your bodyyour presenceor even your polite conversation.I will go away to a far countryseparated from you by the sea— on which I cannot walk —and refr...
But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both
I'm sick of the images trapped in my headI'm sick of being preoccupied with the dead
He thought of trying to explain something he had recently noticed about himself: that if anyone insulted him, or one of his friends, he didn't really mind--or not much, anyway. Whereas if anyone insul...
Towards these weeks of rain I give effusive praise. Let me always be reminded that there is time for change.
He is wearing an old overcoat from the Salvation Army in Easton, Pennsylvania. It cost five bucks ten years ago, Louise remembers. Henry is not interested so much in the bargain, he wants ghosts in hi...
Where the mind is without pain Where knowledge is gain; With you, life is not vain Where hate is a burdenFaith in humanity is not entwine The traces of you is meI am you and you are me Where dreams ar...
When once we are buried you think we are gone. But behold me immortal!
Books have power to bring you glory or doom, it all depends on perception.
How happy is the little stoneThat rambles in the road alone,And doesn't care about careers,And exigencies never fears;Whose coat of elemental brownA passing universe put on;And independent as the sun,...
You hid in my ink and guided my hand. You stained the pages with your silence as God wrote the words, "Be still." Yet, my heart's blindness could only write in loud hues of red, "I love you.
There is nothing to save, now all is lost,
I write poems. I'm often laughed at for doing so. My friends and foes, who were born in 1980's or even later aren't savvy with this concept of the reading and writing poems. They're probably not at fa...
We may know who we are or we may not. We may be Muslims, Jews or Christians but until our hearts become the mould for every heart we will see only our differences.
She The voices of your whisperThe images of your memoryThe Music of your LaughThe Portrait of your SmileAre dancing on my MindThe Love The Warmth of your BreathThe Sensation of your TouchThe Presence...