DurugDivinesuccess - Hello Poetry

The Doe” She wanders the forest where whispers are scarce, Clad in robes of rustling leaves, fragile yet aware. Around her swirl the wind, the water, the fire untamed, A world in discord, where her presence goes unnamed. The hyenas howl, the tortoise lumbers, the elephant bellows, Monkeys leap and chatter, silencing quiet fellows. She shivers with terror, defenseless and small, No gates, no caves—yet she dares to stand tall. Though vulnerable, she lifts her wary gaze, Through shadowed woods and labyrinthine maze. Her steps are measured, yet fearless and clear, A silent power that others might fear. The hyenas jeer, the elephant thunders, the monkeys deride, The tortoise drags the crowd, their judgment wide. Yet she moves with wisdom, nimble and wise, Her vision piercing through veiled lies. No gates, no caves, yet a fire burns within, She guides, she nurtures, she dares to begin. In a forest of chaos, her voice takes flight, A leader emerges from shadow into light.

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Mar 18

Mar 18, 2026 at 8:20 AM UTC

The Doe

The Doe” She wanders the forest where whispers are scarce, Clad in robes of rustling leaves, fragile yet aware. Around her swirl the wind, the water, the fire untamed, A world in discord, where her presence goes unnamed. The hyenas howl, the tortoise lumbers, the elephant bellows, Monkeys leap and chatter, silencing quiet fellows. She shivers with terror, defenseless and small, No gates, no caves—yet she dares to stand tall. Though vulnerable, she lifts her wary gaze, Through shadowed woods and labyrinthine maze. Her steps are measured, yet fearless and clear, A silent power that others might fear. The hyenas jeer, the elephant thunders, the monkeys deride, The tortoise drags the crowd, their judgment wide. Yet she moves with wisdom, nimble and wise, Her vision piercing through veiled lies. No gates, no caves, yet a fire burns within, She guides, she nurtures, she dares to begin. In a forest of chaos, her voice takes flight, A leader emerges from shadow into light.

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I walked through a weary world where broken branches bowed to the breeze, and fading flowers feared the frost. In the center stood a garden— not of roses, but of restless roots remembering rain. A gardener whispered, “Life is soil; what you sow is what you see-d.” So I planted patience in patches of pain, and hope in the hollow ground. Soon soft seeds stirred, their silent strength pressing past the patient earth. And I learned— the cage was never the sky’s design; it was only a lesson in wing-dom. — Duru.G. Divine-success

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Mar 13

Mar 13, 2026 at 3:45 AM UTC

The Garden Of Becoming

I walked through a weary world where broken branches bowed to the breeze, and fading flowers feared the frost. In the center stood a garden— not of roses, but of restless roots remembering rain. A gardener whispered, “Life is soil; what you sow is what you see-d.” So I planted patience in patches of pain, and hope in the hollow ground. Soon soft seeds stirred, their silent strength pressing past the patient earth. And I learned— the cage was never the sky’s design; it was only a lesson in wing-dom. — Duru.G. Divine-success

19

My voice was a seed sleeping under centuries of shadow. The world spoke loudly, but my words walked softly like footsteps on sacred sand. Silence lived with me then- not cruel, only patient like an old baobab watching centuries pass. It told me: Stillness is safety. So I stayed within a quiet cage, woven not from iron but from fear's familiar fingers. Yet dawn is a stubborn storyteller. One morning the wind wandered through the grass whispering wild, wandering wisdom. The river answered in ripples, and the sky slowly opened its wide blue book. Then I understood: A bird is not born to memorize the shape of bars. The lock loosened like dry leaves leaving a branch. My voice rose gently- not thunder, but a soft song of returning. Joy came to sit beside me like sunlight on river water. Once I lived under a sentence of silence, but now my sentences breathe. And the cage, that quiet teacher, became an allegory of forgotten courage. Now I walk beneath the patient African sky, a free bird carrying the calm of an opened door.

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Mar 12

Mar 12, 2026 at 7:20 AM UTC

Joy After The Cage

My voice was a seed sleeping under centuries of shadow. The world spoke loudly, but my words walked softly like footsteps on sacred sand. Silence lived with me then- not cruel, only patient like an old baobab watching centuries pass. It told me: Stillness is safety. So I stayed within a quiet cage, woven not from iron but from fear's familiar fingers. Yet dawn is a stubborn storyteller. One morning the wind wandered through the grass whispering wild, wandering wisdom. The river answered in ripples, and the sky slowly opened its wide blue book. Then I understood: A bird is not born to memorize the shape of bars. The lock loosened like dry leaves leaving a branch. My voice rose gently- not thunder, but a soft song of returning. Joy came to sit beside me like sunlight on river water. Once I lived under a sentence of silence, but now my sentences breathe. And the cage, that quiet teacher, became an allegory of forgotten courage. Now I walk beneath the patient African sky, a free bird carrying the calm of an opened door.

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