Poetria_ - Hello Poetry

Hot flashes of heartfever Burning through my lungs And a strong case of never-dry more-than-pink and puffy eyes

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Oct 4, 2025

Oct 4, 2025 at 12:50 PM UTC

Hot flashes of heartfever Burning through my lungs And a strong case of never-dry more-than-pink and puffy eyes

Soorajmukhi, flower of light, Faithful beloved of the Sun A fool and a poet, you live in his name Wilting at night, you blossom by day With the heart of a lion, you pray and you hope You bask in his warmth, ignoring the smoke Soorajmukhi, you are nobody's rose Let the burning skylight stay unknown

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Jul 9, 2024

Jul 9, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC

Soorajmukhi

Soorajmukhi, flower of light, Faithful beloved of the Sun A fool and a poet, you live in his name Wilting at night, you blossom by day With the heart of a lion, you pray and you hope You bask in his warmth, ignoring the smoke Soorajmukhi, you are nobody's rose Let the burning skylight stay unknown

8

If my words are worthy And if they are a trail of stars Let them lead me back to You Do not let me stray too far And when my heart is lonely When my light submits to dark Do not let me lose You Do not let me stray too far

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Apr 16, 2024

Apr 16, 2024 at 8:10 PM UTC

A poem, a prayer

If my words are worthy And if they are a trail of stars Let them lead me back to You Do not let me stray too far And when my heart is lonely When my light submits to dark Do not let me lose You Do not let me stray too far

8

Sunbird, what is your place in things? I hear you well, but what is your plight? Your thoughtless tunes leave me confused I dream to live just as you do

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Apr 16, 2024

Apr 16, 2024 at 8:02 PM UTC

Song of the Sunbird

Sunbird, what is your place in things? I hear you well, but what is your plight? Your thoughtless tunes leave me confused I dream to live just as you do

4

Season of growth unfreeze me I am as lost as the next fallen leaf Unruly breeze, steal me away Carry me back to my tree

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Apr 16, 2024

Apr 16, 2024 at 8:00 PM UTC

Spring

Season of growth unfreeze me I am as lost as the next fallen leaf Unruly breeze, steal me away Carry me back to my tree

4

kaleidoscope of jagged shards create this face, forever changed against all possibility imperfect pieces rearranged where light is twofold magnified and shadows waltz within the light and waves of light, of liquid gold now break behind unseeing eyes then fleets of doves assail the skies in graceful waves, untethered flight toward my vacant heart they glide my thoughts unowned, now occupied one string of fate, two counterparts diminished light, a distant star your presence, through the fog, is felt: a lighthouse in the dark

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Mar 12, 2024

Mar 12, 2024 at 1:43 PM UTC

luminary musings

kaleidoscope of jagged shards create this face, forever changed against all possibility imperfect pieces rearranged where light is twofold magnified and shadows waltz within the light and waves of light, of liquid gold now break behind unseeing eyes then fleets of doves assail the skies in graceful waves, untethered flight toward my vacant heart they glide my thoughts unowned, now occupied one string of fate, two counterparts diminished light, a distant star your presence, through the fog, is felt: a lighthouse in the dark

16

the death of a loved one is a serious matter. this is my immediate thought when you are mentioned somewhere, sometime, somehow, in conversation. the death of a loved one, you would have said, is a serious matter. you would have said, death is serious and grief is inevitable, but persist in finding the joy anyway; in defeating those dastardly tendrils of gloom that will threaten to pull you into the dark forever. outrun the shadows and find yourself always warm and well under the Sun’s guiding glow. you would have said, let them judge your misery and misinterpret your intent: people will always be quick to call something wrong if they just don't understand it. You would tell me, always, not to care about the opinions of the masses anyway. 'So what?' You would say. my phonetics professor said it too, one day, and I almost cried, the tears were rather stubborn in that moment, fighting my lashes for safe passage. To publicly showcase your grief, I think, is to do yourself more harm than good, so bury you I will, within paragraphs like this, until, at the ordinance of the clock, I am to put away thoughts of death and sentiment, and instead, turn my face toward the Sun, to wash these blues in waves of gold, that I might find myself a part of life, and, that I might learn to love all things anew.

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Nov 26, 2023

Nov 26, 2023 at 5:15 AM UTC

elegaic prose

the death of a loved one is a serious matter. this is my immediate thought when you are mentioned somewhere, sometime, somehow, in conversation. the death of a loved one, you would have said, is a serious matter. you would have said, death is serious and grief is inevitable, but persist in finding the joy anyway; in defeating those dastardly tendrils of gloom that will threaten to pull you into the dark forever. outrun the shadows and find yourself always warm and well under the Sun’s guiding glow. you would have said, let them judge your misery and misinterpret your intent: people will always be quick to call something wrong if they just don't understand it. You would tell me, always, not to care about the opinions of the masses anyway. 'So what?' You would say. my phonetics professor said it too, one day, and I almost cried, the tears were rather stubborn in that moment, fighting my lashes for safe passage. To publicly showcase your grief, I think, is to do yourself more harm than good, so bury you I will, within paragraphs like this, until, at the ordinance of the clock, I am to put away thoughts of death and sentiment, and instead, turn my face toward the Sun, to wash these blues in waves of gold, that I might find myself a part of life, and, that I might learn to love all things anew.

5

these are old bones, bones of the dead, bones that don't belong inside a body bones that decay, abandoned first aid, and forgotten calcium supplements Baba, in life you took my soul, I thought, so I held my heart away from your hands Baba, I have no use left for it now, bury it deep under great piles of dead land I've been told by the birds that you're not in the sky but in fact, just beyond my eye's reach I've been told by the cemetery stones and old trees that the earth houses empty bodies Some days I think you are trapped in the clouds, but they pass to reveal mirthless blue Some days I think you'll walk right through the door, but the foyer is clean of your marrow Baba, these bones have aged too soon, with unlived years I dreamt to share with you Good years, after the last of the wars, in which love surely wins, triumphant over all Years of peace, filled with the light of the sun I witnessed warming you in your grave That sun, over sands of sandspit beach, painting us momentarily gold in the cold of December 4 months, and these bones creak along to your song, it goes: I miss you, I love you, come home

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Jul 16, 2023

Jul 16, 2023 at 7:39 PM UTC

On the subject of grief

these are old bones, bones of the dead, bones that don't belong inside a body bones that decay, abandoned first aid, and forgotten calcium supplements Baba, in life you took my soul, I thought, so I held my heart away from your hands Baba, I have no use left for it now, bury it deep under great piles of dead land I've been told by the birds that you're not in the sky but in fact, just beyond my eye's reach I've been told by the cemetery stones and old trees that the earth houses empty bodies Some days I think you are trapped in the clouds, but they pass to reveal mirthless blue Some days I think you'll walk right through the door, but the foyer is clean of your marrow Baba, these bones have aged too soon, with unlived years I dreamt to share with you Good years, after the last of the wars, in which love surely wins, triumphant over all Years of peace, filled with the light of the sun I witnessed warming you in your grave That sun, over sands of sandspit beach, painting us momentarily gold in the cold of December 4 months, and these bones creak along to your song, it goes: I miss you, I love you, come home

20

mama, i am waiting for the sun to fall out of this picture i am waiting for your laughter's collapse when you go, what happens to the dream? the one in which you don't burn everything you touch, the one in which i don't have to run from your love when you go, take this dream to lie with you forever and i will watch as wildflowers grow around your stone a garden born from you of children who won't run, one final, beautiful redemption mama, i will meet you where the ground keeps us sweet under the sun's golden glow, i swear i won't run from the heat promise me a smile when it's time to take your leave and i promise i will honour you in loving memory

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Nov 25, 2021

Nov 25, 2021 at 1:13 AM UTC

mama, i wrote you a poem

mama, i am waiting for the sun to fall out of this picture i am waiting for your laughter's collapse when you go, what happens to the dream? the one in which you don't burn everything you touch, the one in which i don't have to run from your love when you go, take this dream to lie with you forever and i will watch as wildflowers grow around your stone a garden born from you of children who won't run, one final, beautiful redemption mama, i will meet you where the ground keeps us sweet under the sun's golden glow, i swear i won't run from the heat promise me a smile when it's time to take your leave and i promise i will honour you in loving memory

15

in a poem at the table a masterpiece of lies in love his composition celebrates your downfall / these are my traitors hands two silver, hooked offenders dipping into the well of you / this is my gentle sin his promise, unfulfilled the plan: my pirate's map, his cruel hunt X your puppet smile is straining X his words, a loaded gun X your flower heart is wilting X my wicked work is done.

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Oct 18, 2021

Oct 18, 2021 at 1:33 PM UTC

X marks a happy birthday

in a poem at the table a masterpiece of lies in love his composition celebrates your downfall / these are my traitors hands two silver, hooked offenders dipping into the well of you / this is my gentle sin his promise, unfulfilled the plan: my pirate's map, his cruel hunt X your puppet smile is straining X his words, a loaded gun X your flower heart is wilting X my wicked work is done.

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