Kawarezayi - Hello Poetry

We should be pollinators of love, not hatred. Love is sweet— so let us carry it from one soul to another, just like bees. This is how the world turns into a beautiful garden, even in its dirtiest corners will it grow like wildflowers, its aroma will be permeating the air, that is the scent of love.

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Feb 1

Feb 1, 2026 at 9:58 AM UTC

Pollinators

We should be pollinators of love, not hatred. Love is sweet— so let us carry it from one soul to another, just like bees. This is how the world turns into a beautiful garden, even in its dirtiest corners will it grow like wildflowers, its aroma will be permeating the air, that is the scent of love.

12

Like a man lost in the desert searching for water, I am far from well.

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Jan 26

Jan 26, 2026 at 6:52 AM UTC

Far from

Like a man lost in the desert searching for water, I am far from well.

1

In grief, you toss and turn, left and right; not even on a bed made of clouds will you find peace. But when love has found you, when the heart grows quiet and full, you can fall asleep— even on rocks.

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Jan 25

Jan 25, 2026 at 6:28 PM UTC

Love

In grief, you toss and turn, left and right; not even on a bed made of clouds will you find peace. But when love has found you, when the heart grows quiet and full, you can fall asleep— even on rocks.

8

Lacrimation Until I am dried up, hot tears meander down my cheeks— how they burn. Who knows my aches but the moon and stars at night? Who knows my aches but the wet pillow under my head? Who knows my aches but the candle, its small flame holding my gaze? Oh candle, like you I flicker— When night comes, Let it remain, sempiternal, this sorrow the same. Forget me— as if I was never here, as if all this was a dream. Let me sink into oblivion in this bed.

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Jan 22

Jan 22, 2026 at 5:26 PM UTC

Witnesses in the night

Lacrimation Until I am dried up, hot tears meander down my cheeks— how they burn. Who knows my aches but the moon and stars at night? Who knows my aches but the wet pillow under my head? Who knows my aches but the candle, its small flame holding my gaze? Oh candle, like you I flicker— When night comes, Let it remain, sempiternal, this sorrow the same. Forget me— as if I was never here, as if all this was a dream. Let me sink into oblivion in this bed.

19

Oh beautiful rain, when you fall, I feel like falling with you. Let me descend as one of your tiny drops. Together, let us clash against this harsh existence we call life— the pain, the sadness, the grief, the cruelty of it all. Let us wash it all away.

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Jan 17

Jan 17, 2026 at 6:19 PM UTC

Rain

Oh beautiful rain, when you fall, I feel like falling with you. Let me descend as one of your tiny drops. Together, let us clash against this harsh existence we call life— the pain, the sadness, the grief, the cruelty of it all. Let us wash it all away.

6

And when we touch, sparks shall fly, let it set our world ablaze like dry tinder, let it spread through all the corners of our souls until one day we are but glowing embers.. we are two stones in the hands of fate itself, isn’t it striking that when we meet, fire is born?

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Dec 22, 2025

Dec 22, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC

Me and you

And when we touch, sparks shall fly, let it set our world ablaze like dry tinder, let it spread through all the corners of our souls until one day we are but glowing embers.. we are two stones in the hands of fate itself, isn’t it striking that when we meet, fire is born?

1

Isn’t it ironic that when some of us are down, “low”, depressed, we cut the surface of our bodies, trying to dig into ourselves, the word itself (depression) when talking about geology, have the same meaning, and even more ironic, some use grounding techniques to cope with it.

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Dec 20, 2025

Dec 20, 2025 at 4:48 PM UTC

Depression

Isn’t it ironic that when some of us are down, “low”, depressed, we cut the surface of our bodies, trying to dig into ourselves, the word itself (depression) when talking about geology, have the same meaning, and even more ironic, some use grounding techniques to cope with it.

1

In the dark, my eyes are two glowing coals, remnants of the old, embers of a fire that once burned bright.. No longer do I emanate the same heat, the same warmth that once attracted life, the same light that radiated in the night, all are gone and I am left alone, slowly becoming enveloped by the darkness.

0

Dec 4, 2025

Dec 4, 2025 at 5:35 PM UTC

Sadness

In the dark, my eyes are two glowing coals, remnants of the old, embers of a fire that once burned bright.. No longer do I emanate the same heat, the same warmth that once attracted life, the same light that radiated in the night, all are gone and I am left alone, slowly becoming enveloped by the darkness.

2

I saw you today, But just for a brief moment.. You did? She replied. I told her, you went by me. She said why didn't you say hi? I told her I did but you disappeared behind the grey clouds.

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Nov 28, 2025

Nov 28, 2025 at 7:36 AM UTC

I saw you today

I saw you today, But just for a brief moment.. You did? She replied. I told her, you went by me. She said why didn't you say hi? I told her I did but you disappeared behind the grey clouds.

6

For some of us high ground is but a few floating leafs of hope upon which we sit and wait, like a little insect whose world is flooded by heavy rain, but lamentably some tides just never ebb, no matter how hopeful we are.

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Nov 7, 2025

Nov 7, 2025 at 5:54 PM UTC

Never ebb

For some of us high ground is but a few floating leafs of hope upon which we sit and wait, like a little insect whose world is flooded by heavy rain, but lamentably some tides just never ebb, no matter how hopeful we are.

1