The earth rejoices at the sound of laughter
as cries are heard too often.
Let these tears that fall
as a result of joy
be the water that helps flowers spring.
They will rise, towering over ants and rivers
from the dry, and dull ground
that has let sadness seep into its pores
a virus; taking life as its host.
We laugh to forget, and love
happiness emanating from our skin
our intentions alternating
like sun and moon.
Laughter is so beautiful,
seemingly abderian most of the time
it never fails to enrich the soul.
They say look for kindness in a man
but never forget to explore his humor.
Share laughs with your best friend,
they will make these memories last a lifetime.
Even those with melancholy waiting, hanging
from the corner of their lips
revel in the pleasures of the soul
and appreciate the sounds that the earth makes
to forget its troubles.
Intoxicated and drunk over the idea of how we should be,
and what we could have been,
that is how I feel.
I am forever chained to these expectations,
telling me that there should be words and song
exchanged between us
and that I have failed to fulfill anything at all.
The silence has filled up my insides
I am a hollow cave
Regrets echoing in this empty space
Melancholy at its finest
*I despise who I have become
These words burn like acid
as I try to digest them
but they swallow me instead.
words are harsh
I still remember your hug
arms rigid with reluctance
and also the way you barely cared
but I held onto you
till I made sure that my fingers left prints
to remind you that you mattered to me
more than I did to you.
i tried - he barely did
I hesitate to show him the truth.
The words I write may never reach his eyes
I am afraid of the torture after rejection.
These feelings cannot be denied,
my poems will never cease to exist
even if i erased these heavy thoughts I typed
burned them alive
the memories of us will float around endlessly
somewhere, out of my reach.
If he sees himself in mirrors
in a monotone and meaningless way
he will not anymore
because reflections of him
lie not only visually in images,
such as projections on clear glass
but in others who admire him too.
We become who we love eventually
Admiration for someone else
makes us melt
covering past pages of who were before.
it was a goodbye without words
but my heart is full
let me in again
Haunted souls travel inked skies at night
drawing their trajectories among constellations.
With soles dipped in stardust
they tread through the heavens
searching for God; searching for rest.
Some thoughts have clung to their skin
words stained with regret beat them down
walls of hope, crushed to rubble
a city of dreams had once existed within.
When you see a shooting star tonight,
remember that it is a star that is dead
carrying the lost to somewhere far away
an afterlife with meaning.
At the end of October,
the month of warmth before the ice,
the angels will donate a star to every soul
who cannot escape their haunted insides
a twinkle of light
in an otherwise eternity of darkness.
white against white
decorated with jasmine flowers
that have witnessed everything.
They've seen the french
speaking the language of love
with weapons of destruction in their hands
carrying our nation's sons
six feet under their footsteps
stepping on honor's history forever.
"Ya worood al yasmeen"
with pearly white petals,
and bright green stems
I've watch you grow over our house
year after year
hanging high and low
gazing at the loss below.
I am now far, distant like a stranger
the homeland has put smiles on our faces
that glow in albums of badly taken pictures
that will haunt my path across oceans.
One day, the heart will ask for home
and I shall listen to it
as it yearns for the sweet scent of jasmines.
My grandmother's house once filled with love
her biggest fears coming to life
pictures hanging on the wall
ghosts of love so short-lived
but remind me to tell her
that she is not alone
there are flowers like angels watching from above.
Whenever I go to Algeria I notice the jasmines that wait for me there every year.
It had always been about you
and I should've known better.
When you make someone your world, then realise there was nothing to make a story out of in the first place.
Like a greedy vulture, I pecked at my skin
What is there to accept?
Is it the discoloured patches where plump red blush had settled before?
Rosy and full of life, I will mourn for my past self.
Is it the falling strings of hair giving up on embracing my tired neck?
A backbone that has defied its own purpose.
In a world of exchange and sharing
Nature has found a place in me
My soul reconciles with the desire to bloom
But my body is dwelling in its ashy winter days
Between the night and day
Find me halfway deciding where to go,
It will either be aspiring to be the sun
or waiting for the end to die with the moon.
I have finally written something after weeks of mental exhaustion
I saw the universe in your eyes
but have you ever cared
to look into mine?
I guess I was a star
about to fade,
into the sombre abyss
of your forgotten memories.
I cannot wait for something that never intended to arrive.
Similar to thread and needle through smooth silk
I embroider your name into my poetry.
I sold all the innocence I believed in,
to describe the fire I see in the subject of my words.
With all the blood that races in me
I make it stop;
silencing my heartbeat and tongue
to witness the art that you carry in your figure.
Suddenly the poet in me has forgotten how to write.
we express in verses and tears,
and love people that won't love us back.
makes you feel stinging bees
instead of butterflies.
When a seed germinates,
It needs several conditions to initiate its growth
but a flower is different.
A flower only yearns for rain to cover its drooping petals
and sunlight to embrace it from every corner.
As I grow up,
Material objects become useless.
Only certain people matter,
and being able to hold them tight
would be the best birthday gift ever.
its my birthday and i feel like crap because those i want here are so far away.
Maybe if bitterness was not my language,
You would've held on to our conversations.
Maybe if bitterness wasn't in my eyes,
You wouldn't have turned to look at her instead.
What a blessing it is
to find the right words
to describe you
because for far too often
I find you
hanging at the corner of my lips
and settling on my numb fingertips
unable to be released
into the realm of art.
How can I reply
when my tongue has blisters
from the words left stuck and unsaid?
I can't hurt you
because I know what pain feels like.
the waves are afraid to break
but crashing is natural
and us humans must know this.
Shouting at the sky,
Dear, the clouds will not cry for you.
Earth will continue spinning,
Ignoring the burdens of the hell
you carry around on your shoulders,
in the darkest part of your mind
and under your eyes.
If you need to talk I'm always here.
We're candles that want to burn bright
and wouldn't mind dwindling in the flames.
- this was pretty short -
If only I had wings to take me
where my soul belongs
because hands can’t reach that far
And now my heart has been
crying out your name.
Some nights I can't find the right words
to make my feelings sound pretty
or string them all into poetry
tonight is like that
because I miss you way too much to even think straight.
A lot has changed since we last spoke
People have cried and others have found love
I have stopped breathing since we last spoke;
However you should not worry about my lungs
But you should know that my soul has stopped dancing
My lips could barely move to greet
My arms have become too lazy to hug
But my heart has continued to skip a beat at the thought of you
and my fingers will forever come back to life
like when you held my hand
Never mind that for now, all I care about is that you are doing well.
In the juxtaposition of two worlds
I am caught in between night and day
chaos fills me;
entropy bursts into my veins
traces of peace are nowhere to be found
I am a dimension collapsing upon itself
is it help i need
or do I let myself dissolve into the cosmos, unnoticed?
idk what i should do
I was a child
who found beauty
in the symphony of words.
I tried to join sentences
and stack beautiful vocabulary
in my empty glittered journal
but nothing worked.
Years have passed
and I remember the exact moment
when I realised that what I loved
was called Poetry.
I marvelled at the writing of others
thinking of myself
as a streak of faint ink
on a masterpiece of paint.
To me, I was incapable of being an artist
and painting sheets with my emotions
but in the end,
we all have a fire within our hearts
that we want to put out
and we write endlessly
to tell others its story.
I never knew that my love of words would lead me into poetry. I used to tell my friends about how much I loved beautiful words but no one understood me. So I understood my own self first.
She held onto the cigarette
quivering hands and ****** veins
it lit up and scorched the leaves
infiltrating in her tensed lungs.
It reminded her of him.
Breathing in the grey smoke,
she suffocated from
the air that they weren't sharing.
Hugging the cigarette,
with his shapely lips
she knew that any attempt
of kissing him
would **** her
but yet she longed to die
at his touch.
- she loved him so much-
The heart is clumsy,
our thoughts provoking disaster
when pulling on the wrong strings
before the storm, and after.
encompass the sky
that hovers above us
holding clouds that serve purpose
to embellish or destroy
waiting for the wind
to mould us into strange shapes
tugging at others’ curiosity
not knowing what we are
or where we’re going.
blinding weather in his eyes,
today we are not raining together
drop by drop
He falls and changes,
beauty into anger,
I await on a lonely ground
to catch him.
We exist in all shades,
converging into one another
calming the anxious souls
that we transport to the heavens above.
I watch the sun and moon alternate,
natural occurrences, I notice
just like the thoughts
that feel like clouds in my head
when my heart reminds me
at an ungodly time of night
striking me like lightening,
thunder echoing between these ears
that long for the voice of an angel instead.
I would rather hold your hand
than see you leave.
Ten Word Poem #1
There are burn marks under my skin.
Underneath this protective layer,
your words have touched me
and have not left scars until now.
Upon realizing the bitterness of your departure,
the echo of your voice
bumps and bruises my insides every day,
There are burn marks under my skin,
from the words trapped inside
that cannot find a way to leave.
I am internally combusting tonight,
consumed by you.
i will not beat my heart for what it feels
find it emptying itself day by day
until what it held
leaves no traces inside
and watch my eyes darken
circles weighing heavily under wet eyelashes
in the face of the remnants of the storm that passed
naivety and regret coexist
debris out of a natural disaster
I hear the cries emanating from your words
Every letter of every sentence is a story
that only your broken heart can tell.
The longing for peace inside
brings chaos within your cracked bones
I hope that honey starts to drip
out of your scars instead of blood.
The thoughts spinning in your mind
now resemble the whorls in outer space
galaxies of decisions to take
follow the path of stars that lie in your heart.
I know how hard it is to open your eyes
face the world
and live behind your insecurities
let your skin jump from excitement
not from fear that causes constriction of yourself.
You haven't failed yourself
when you chose silence over speech
these pens have screamed louder than anything
one day they will hurt those who wounded you
so that the guilt inside
will keep them awake night after night,
I will continue to pray for you.
Soft heart and lips,
skin like pillows
chest a haven for whoever
is privileged enough
to find comfort in it
don't let the harsh days
blister the frame
that holds you, the artwork, together.
Allow these poems to rebuild you
so that you realize that homes out of people
burn faster than gasoline on fire
and that the paradise you crafted
out of your bathroom floor
corners of busy rooms
tears on scratched paper
and wrinkles on your tired forehead
is the one that will revive you forever.
my soul is still getting used to sensing hesitation in his words
sometimes i wonder why we can't be together
at first i blamed myself
i always blame myself
but i've come to a conclusion -
it is in fact my fault
it definitely isn't his
that i am a dreamer living in a reality of nightmares
and that the meanings behind my words are often too dense to comprehend
so his lips and mine can no longer speak common sense
our circles forming awkward edges to avoid overlap
like oil and water and we can never become one
The night and I are best friends.
Our darkness coincides
and I find myself confiding in the moon
more than I ever did with anyone else.
Don't define poetry.
I will not allow myself to be placed
within your confines
and narrow mind
for my own has no limits.
I am its queen
cultivating a kingdom of intellectual beauty
planting seeds of wisdom and knowledge
picturing gardens of thoughts and poems.
Don't define poetry.
Useless ramblings to you
May seem like noise
That you'd rather shut out
But my voice matters
And it shall manifest itself
In ways you can't imagine.
Don't dare tell me that my emotions are not valid
How will I ever edit my drafts
of oceans of thoughts
encompassed my breezes whispering your name
and fathom them into poems
or mere glimpses of words
so that you may finally understand.
It is 3 am
I am hoping that when I sleep
will consist of you
and that I'll be present
in yours too.
I miss you so much, good night.
Children awake to sizzling butter and fresh eggs
Birds chirp and settle on their windowsills
Greeting them with the sound of nature.
How lovely it must be!
Childhood is all about the games and the play, they said.
Buttons are pressed,
Video games begin,
because violence is but a pixelated projection for them.
Two extremities of this earth are facing each other now.
Darkness lies on the opposite side.
What a shame!
Home now bleeds images of destruction.
Childhood is non-existent there.
Children awake to the nauseating scent of gunpowder,
Anxiety has filled their minds,
The future remains vague
Lives hanging on a thread
The drones set off missiles to cut it.
They are worth the entire world to their mothers
Young souls who are the lens from which their parents see happiness
survivors scrape the rubble off their ****** feet
scavenging for the roots they once tried to protect
wetting the ground with utter despair.
Home now bleeds destruction
and constant chaos.
lips that split like the sea
uttering words that could save a nation
"what a beautiful voice she's got," you think
and you couldn't help but drown
we are made up of earth
our skin blends in with nature
disaster and beauty in our soulful eyes
finding love in between shifting plates
a newly found humanity
shaking our bones
but in the end
we drift away
existing oceans apart
Your silence brought indifference
and after that, I was never the same.
I had plans and poems
that revolved around you
but I will not lie
you have scorched my skin beyond repair
I cannot even recognise who I was before
your heart and mine beat near each other.
Whether you leave forever
or come back to me
my soul will yearn for the one that made me feel like
the universe was in my hands and spinning at only our pace
me and you
your voice and the waves fighting in my ears
both forces of nature that keep me wondering.
I'll be here waiting
for a month, for a year, and for eternity.
I have inhaled the air of countless cities
and left some of mine behind.
My distinct fingerprints are invisible
but they exist
in a place amidst many others
on tables and handles everywhere.
My voice had probably made someone turn
and wonder what type of a person I was.
Do I sound happy because I am
or is it a mere façade I have covered the truth with?
It will leave them pondering over the masks we wear.
Lipstick stains on coffee mugs
Kissing the worries goodbye
they flutter away into thin air
and become someone else's instead.
Eyes darting to the clouds above,
that water was once down here in the sea
but now it is above hovering over me.
Like snakes shed their skin,
and dead matter turns to trees
we leave a part of ourselves
on dusty shelves
for others to recover and use
the cycle goes on.
its a cycle
I could hear him clearly despite his silence
Swallowing my pride,
I spoke first.
Raising our eyes to the sky
we discussed the weather and our plans
pretending like the words, "I miss you" didn't exist.
A great year has passed
challenging us on each side of the globe
far away from the other
I am sure that our thoughts unite.
In our dreams, and in reality
we will continue to
exchange loud glances
without saying the proper words.
we saw each other after a year.
You exist to be written and
spoken about in poetry.
My skin wasn't meant to contain all this pain
My chest senses exploding agony
that of a thousand bursting nebulae
stars in my eyes are now spikes
Knees bend and I droop low in disdain
I can only feel myself about to give up
A bomb that ticks not knowing when to stop.
Blades line up ready for battle
My thoughts shooting at them
provoking weapons -
drawing them closer
This is a war I'd like to surrender in
Because I am already bleeding on the inside.
Autumn kills the leaves,
slowly and beautifully
but when I fall
it is always in pain.
When the tears,
and my body
collapse to the ground
both in the most melancholic shade of red
my lips promise to never say your name
and my heart attempts to flee its cage
away, very far away
As clouds got darker
Winds howled a bit louder
I found myself relating
With a sense of pugnacity
To the instability I could discern
The trees wept for the fallen leaves
Like I did for the fading part of me
I've been struggling to write.
My mind cannot quite decipher
what my heart feels.
Not all cracks in the pavement
have cultivated life along their destruction
so please bear with me
as I gather what is necessary
of words, and of love
to fill in the gaps inside.
Long weeks end
but more will follow.
Our muscles seep exhaustion
Hollow faces around me
Empty cups of coffee and tea
embody the struggles of the mind
and the stability of the body.
No matter how sweet the morning air is,
or how many birds chirp good luck
the bitterness prevails
it is obvious
in the dense air
and bloodshot eyes.
good luck to everyone!!!