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Verses

Why go in verses
maintain a rhythm
when the words spill
all over the canvas
fighting for spaces
to conjure meanings
and sometimes feelings
before they finally cease to exist
and get trapped forever,
in pages of the books
left in the empty corners of libraries
to be read or just seen.

Why seek the rhythm
when the world outside
is full of chaos
nothing but Chaos
 Dec 2016 Nikita
Randy Lee
energy swirling in random spirals
chaos humming in the vast unseen
do you feel the spiritual revival
loosening the grip of the illusion machine
one more night then a moon so bright
a fruition of lessons the soul elected
allowing intuition to regain its light
truth as taught by the One resurrected
 Dec 2016 Nikita
Walt Whitman
O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
 Nov 2016 Nikita
Ghazal
Damaged
 Nov 2016 Nikita
Ghazal
Together, they were like that wiry hair with
A split end she would obsessively try
To peel apart,
Not sure if more harm would be done,
With or without it in her heart.
She knew she could cut it off
and be done with it in a go,
Yet she picked at it,
Deriving strange painful pleasures in tearing
Each other away,
Till he would fall into the abyss of oblivion,
And her, weakened, distorted,
A lone strand would remain,
Never would she be the same again.
 Oct 2016 Nikita
Rapunzoll
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

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my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
 Oct 2016 Nikita
Valsa George
Down the dusty road,
in tattered rags,
He came,
weary,
wilted,
and
withered.

Body bent with age,
bones sticking out of the flabby skin,
with a tremor
running down his limbs,
and with expectant eyes,
He waited at my doorstep.
No words came out from pursed lips
But,
in mute language
begged for alms.

I held his shrivelled hand,
helped him ascend the steps.
Like a child obeying it’s Elder
He sat on a chair in the patio.

The sumptuous fare, served before,
he surveyed with eyes
bulging out in utter disbelief,
and greedily devoured
every bit of morsel.

A rare gleam lighted up his face.
With hands folded in benison
He stood up and silently took leave.

I watched him stumble
along the country track
and fade away in the distance.

Ripples of joy stirred my mind
in ever widening circles
as, a pebble idly tossed
cause ripples in still waters
................
Over a random act  
of kindness
idly tossed.......
Love is the cardinal of all virtues…. But love has many shades! Next to Love, comes Compassion…. It is love plus empathy….. ! I believe that even the Scripture minus compassion is zero.
This is a true story…. ! Through such small acts of kindness, the giver and the receiver derive some joy…As an average human being, I am not powerful enough to carry out heroic acts to better myself and the world around
I feel that if one has compassion, he/she cannot hurt anyone deliberately!
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