Too often, what many perceive as love
is merely attraction
Attraction will fade
love will grow stronger

~~
Once you uttered
And do not be reversed
It remains either in the air or in the disc

Just as

Once the heart when I gave you
The freedom went to exile
Birds are caught in the cage

And the words within the words are lost
As like as your mystic form,
Vanished slowly on the horizon

Some songs roll over your mind
Some words are as deep marker
Still exist, after the departure of

Just as

Even after the train going away
You're standing at the station
But the mind does not want to return

What is the fault
Lost in the wind of memory
Seeking the truth beyond the existence

Was written in order to leave
Ah! What a difficult moment!

Life is the game of light and shadow
Stay away from the dark for some time
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

riding the shadowless night
in search of his darkest day
more or less there's Hell to pay
and this is the way of The Wanderer

rocky is the path of mossless stones
and where it leads is less than known
nevertheless 'tis where he roams
and this is the way of The Wanderer

much pity there should not be
as he has visited much pain upon others
passing like a wraith through their friendly hearts
leaving nothing real or true in his wake

nothing could be so bold as a lost soul
unafraid of what is unknown
afoot the rocky path of mossless stones
all alone

and this is the way of i
i am The Wanderer

The sea beneath
the sea within
the hollow feelings
from there to then

As the thought breaks
parts the clouds
As the light comes
within allowed

I touch your lips
you gentle thing
you touch my heart
oh hear it sing

The sun beneath
as far as be
the sea within
sets sails on wing

There go no
red day dawnings
there are no
red flag warnings

Only reflections on the iris
of the eye
only purest warmth
over oceans glide

the glass is half empty
my mind is too full
negativity is all that tempts me
with its downward pull

with broken feathers
i fall from the sky
when it's always cloudy weather
hope is sure to die

once i was lost
broken and dying
now i can be found
fearlessly flying

I'm a saint of the vapor
that's my God-given nature
I'm only here for a season
with my heart, pen, and paper

Forty-three years ago
I was expendable.

Expendable means:
cannon fodder,
unimportant,
food for powder,
victim, target, pawn,
disposable, superfluous,
replaceable.

Not an appropriate
term for humans.

Once you have been
expendable,
you can never be
quite human again.

  ~mce

Make it through make it true
Lay it bare if you dare
Banish doubt make it count
Look around you’ve made it there

Shout it far show your scars
Fill the day with twenty-four hours
This is it what we’ve got
Looks like **** but it’s ours

You see this life filled with strife
So much hurt so much pain
Now you win now you lose
One’s loss another’s gain

It wasn’t meant to be pretty
Empty towns ***** cities
People all around have issues
Insecure, lost and misused

You can choose to stay and fight
Assert yourself claim your rights
Or decide to turn away
Make your mark another day

Showing up is half the battle
Knocked down back in the saddle
It’s not the wins and the losses
It’s the learning it’s a process

At the end of the day
Stop and do the math
Those who've made hay
Don’t have to look back.

I forgot what BTW stands for . . .
. . . between the wines ?
Oh yeah ! . . . by the way !
Yes !

Too much of yesterdays
and hangover today
Oh yes enough to **** a teenager

Once you start questioning your poetry
you'll be listening to teenagers ,
"You are not using rhyme !"
"Your muse is a dummy ."

You don't write poetry . . . your muse does
Your just the leaky pen
Or in my case the timid typist

First mistake :
Listening to other people
tell you how to write

Second mistake :
Self doubt
Who in the world cares if your poetry
is good or bad  . . . that is not
the point anyway

You don't write to please the Queen
You write to no one out there
who might be listening

You write to the shadows
You write to the physical ghosts
that never existed

It is not your purpose to write
anything that pleases anyone else
Yes is best

Just write and write to your hearts delight
Poetry is measured by years
not by the poem . . . bye now