When I look back at the things I had
The things that now are gone
I was planting seeds of division
But the trees grew tall and strong
I used to see for miles around
But now the forest grows
Beneath the shade of branches
Are secrets no one knows
At first it was a place to hide
An oasis on barren lands
But holding on to a past that's gone
Was just leaving time on my hands
For years I must have wandered
Abandoning all that was good
I thought I knew my way out
But now I'm lost in the woods
This is probably one of my favorite poems I have written. I came to this site as a musician on hiatus looking for a creative outlet in life. This was the first poem where I felt as I wasn't a musician writing poems, but a poet. Thank you so much for your support and here's to many future works from myself and from all of you as well! :)
- The Mysidian Bard
this is all i know:
i love you like a flower. together we've planted the seed of love, and i can't wait to watch it bloom and grow with time. i know you can't grow without sunshine and rain so i'll be here for the happy days and the sad days.
Over your clouds of grief,
Shine like the perennial sun.
Weep, cry, let them leak down,
Do not just let your tears be brief.
Remember the seeds you have sown,
You will get their produce as the relief.
Forget love as for you it just is not made.
He's better than I am.
Kinder, wiser, much more patient...
It's the patience and kindness that I can't help but envy
I'm so quick to judge.
Others must earn my kindness.
He's one of the rare and beautiful souls that will leave the world better than he found it
It's in his nature to plant seeds in every footstep,
While others trample life beneath them.
He's the Greek goddess who was so lovely that flowers sprung up wherever she went.
But he's different.
He's beautiful on the inside
He leaves something substantial in his path.
Flowers are pretty and fleeting,
but he plants oak trees behind him.
The trees he leaves thrive for centuries, they grow tall and strong and beautiful
Generations upon generations see his trees and they love them
He will leave forests in his wake and maybe no one will know that these forests are his...
But that's not why he leaves them.
Planting seeds in his footsteps is in his nature and I believe that's why I might love him.
Rain drops are falling,
They don't make a sound,
They bury their way,
Deep into the ground.
Where sick seeds lay furled,
And no one can see,
The beginning of sprouts,
That will form the tree.
Where butterflies flutter,
In a forgotten place,
And inside the caverns,
A storm you must face.
But for now more silence,
The quiet is your friend,
To tear you apart,
Or to help you to mend.
I imagine her night –
her winter, her dark – better
defined your light,
the same way black velvet
offers a showy diamond.
full of beans,
along with mine,
full of shrieks,
seeds we’ve germinated.
Yours is tall and yellow;
mine blue and pensive.
dream a garden for them.
Eyes of fire
Sitting on a throne
Would you give me a heart to own?
Alone in a temple darkness seeds
The trees I cut down bleed their sap
Caught in the tragedy of existence
The curtain of the unknowing certain
I need a map
But the chaos of chemicals I can't control
Form my body, enslave my soul
For every negative thought I d fashion
10 for the good of me and my friends
But I can't play pretend the child I once was
Because fear is the adult he always was.
They could not sow anything else but seeds of hatred
Now what will crop up nothing less buds with blood
The next generation is of bloody thirst hounds avid
How can love overcome when nothing remains sacred
Gift of father travels through very many generations
It becomes root cause of all evils in many great nations
It corrupts worthy daughters becomes debacle for sons
When atmosphere becomes sheer dark without beckons
Prayers are destitute slogans are but just sham excuse
Only charity remains in the shape of just utter refuse
It is not possible now to inject life or confidence to infuse
Bruised minds and injured hearts will not be able to diffuse
Time can not wait for stupids to come up to the occasion
Broken donkeys are unable to carry troublesome burden
Life is a reality it is not a dream of a driven and drunken
Real pragmatic people believe in life in action and function
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow