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Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
 Jan 2018 Sankalp Dharge
Meadow
You will never see the world
the way I do
I can try to convey
The world I see
But the reality is
You will never be inside my mind

Just like I will never be able to never enter yours
We like to think we understand eachother
But there is no real way to
Because no matter how much we share with another
Interest, goals, fears,
There is no way to know for certain
That we feel the same they do

There is something beautiful in that
Contributing to the statement that everyone is unique, and different
But it's also terrifying
Knowing that you cannot be anything but alone
When you're in your own head

But there is real power in this
Knowing what you have is truly your own
And no one can take that from you
And anyone can their power
To create something truly special
In English,
we’re learning about
Winston and Julia
in 1984, but
it’s 2017
all I want to study is
you.

I want to study less
about the
control and freedom
Big Brother has
and more about
the calculation of your
moves.

I want to study the way
your knuckles could be an
infant’s home, small
hands reaching out
longing for you
or the way the veins in
your arm makes abstract art,
beautiful enough to be showcased
in any gallery.

I understand now why they say
“as pretty as a painting.” Because
you’re as timeless and
breathtaking as
Mona Lisa.

And your blue iris's,
swirl with dark and light
tones with a slight
a golden glint,
I could stare into them for longer
than any
Starry Night.

Maybe,
I’m just better suited to an art class.
I want to learn the primaries
so I can swirl them all together and
get your dark brown hair.
I want to add the most expensive
white, so I can paint the
faint freckles on your nose and

I want to mix blue and red adding water
until the colour is a perfect match
for the faintest birthmark
on your shoulder.

Instead of the History of Russia,
I want to learn the History
of you.
I want to learn what makes you smile
and what makes you cry.

I want to study you,  
I use each brush stroke to
perfect your skin,
each pen writes down
notes until
I have a whole book
full of each heartbreak,
so I can learn a lesson
in you.
the voice of an angel
pitch perfect
powerful words
spreading the message
without aggression
death unspoken
sadness possesses
your innocent look
taken to spread a message of love
for those who were treated unjust
warriors created through your eyes
warriors made when you hear their cries
their storied told through your softly sung words
and the bars you composed
If anyone hasn't heard of Aurora you should listen to her music.
 Jun 2017 Sankalp Dharge
Tiffany
Allies become foes and friends turn away
Loyalties are questioned, only the honorable stay
And so begins the fight, to claim the right of power
While a child claims the crown, sitting atop his lofty tower
The Stag is said to rule the seven, but all is not what it may seem
The Lion fights the Wolf, while the Dragons ready their queen
The kingdom will bathe in blood, and it is under the light of the moon
That alliances are broken, or saved from the brink of ruin
“For the night is dark, and full of terrors”
These new gods shake faith in the old with tremors
Winter is coming, it can be felt in the bones
But before it reaches, who will win this Game of Thrones?
Credit given to the genius George R.R. Martin
Created because I couldn't control the fangirl inside <3
 Jun 2017 Sankalp Dharge
Hannah
There is a bridge
that connects me
to a place of love
in my empty head.

It's called music.
Like a darkman's cowl
I've seen light more than twice
And darkness more than thrice
Like a wolfman without a howl

Like a moon without a glow
All these feelings I'll never show
Some things I'll never do
I'll never do these things with you
A group poem co-authored by Brent Demirkan
 May 2017 Sankalp Dharge
ADS
Poetry is art
A blank canvas and a brush
We paint with our hearts
I never thought I would be a person to write poetry, but I have found it very addicting. Also it allows me to get down my thoughts without being judged or crucified. So thank you for taking time out of your day to read my thoughts.
I looked at my hands
They whispered old
No, I cried
My flesh is firm

My eyes are bright
The years controlled
They whispered old
I looked at a tree

Its shimmering leaves above
A robin singing
A song of love
Tell me, tree,

Between you and me
How do you
Your life renew
I looked at the sky

Its azure
Endlessness
Tell me, sky,
Your secret of
Timelessness

I looked at the sun,
The moon and a star
That winked at me boldly
from afar

Tell me, please, let your
wisdom descend
Is there a beginning
Without an end ?
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