Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maryann I Mar 14
How many ways to love, you ask—
a question no number could hold.
Is it the warmth in a morning glance,
or fingers laced when nights grow cold?

Is it stitched in quiet acts—
the coffee brewed before you wake,
the lullaby in whispered words,
the comfort found when hearts ache?

It’s in the listening without reply,
in laughter blooming from nothing at all,
in standing near through storm and still,
in catching you before you fall.

It’s in the gentle brushing of hair,
the note slipped beneath your door,
the holding on through distance long,
the choosing you, and then once more.

It’s in the growing, side by side,
in space that’s safe, yet ever near,
in letting go of fear to trust,
in every soft “I’m here.”

So how many ways to love, you say?
More than stars that grace the night,
more than raindrops ever kissed
the windowpane with morning light.

Count each heartbeat, each breath we take,
each kindness passed from hand to hand—
and still, you’d only touch the edge
of love’s vast, endless strand.
Romance it was,
when I thought
that in this country
I would feel at home.

When I boarded that plane,
headed for the future.
A promising future,
full of trials
and many successes.

I crossed borders,
both physical and emotional.

I never thought my life
would fit into a suitcase.

In my suitcase,
only a few clothes,
but filled with everything
that pushed me forward.

The rest was in my mind:
the embrace of my mother and father.
Will this be the last time I see them?

Longing and nostalgia,
a feeling in my chest.

I don’t know if it’s sadness or love,
pride for doing
what many cannot,
and yet, I dare.

Now I find myself here,
I am the different one,
the one who speaks with an accent.

Strong in life,
wondering what I’m doing here,
searching for my path.

Not for an earthly purpose,
but because the universe
needs me here.

It seems like a terrestrial journey,
but it is an astral journey
to another reality.

Many times I cry,
other times I comfort myself.
I am no longer from here,
but neither from there.

When I say,
"I am from the world,"
I find myself.
Ankush Mar 12
Welcome !!

This is your house,
A door little tall,
The pet mittle spouse.

See ,
Those ten eyes ,
Lids some closed
The view is suffice,
Clatter of wood ,
Thud due wind,
And curtains fright.

Please make your way inside !!

This is the home in which you reside ,
This is where ,
you slept a myriad of nights.
Yes , this is the veranda of
Your childhood sunbaths,
Memory of joy,
Playing hard as mad .

Ooo,
It's your room,
Look at those doodles
On the walls,
Sketches of sun and crows
Signing your name ,
Across.

It's the TV you saw growing,
The fridge which colour's been fading
The bathroom's door which been
Cranking ,

(Joyful laugh)

Come beside,
Let's go on the roof ,
Take a breath
Let's move in a loop,
Sip of fresh air
Then make a move.

Reminisce the sunset ,
& The glare of moon ,
The panorama of lush green
silvered by lune.

This is your home
Not just a brick or stone ,
You spent your life here
Not just a shade of mere ,

This is a sweater of
Wool of will
The sweater that
has to be worn even
It's summer ,
It is an antique which
Only you can weave ,

So tell me ,

Why do you want to leave ?
Salwa Mar 7
Everyone I’ve ever loved
Is somewhere in my heart locked away
Parts of them scattered and mixed with my blood
Running through every part of by body
To my brain
Reflections of their persona escape as i speak
I’m everyone I’ve ever loved , that is me
Lostling Feb 25
I am not the black sheep, so why don’t I belong?
My wool stands out amongst the heard, a speck of dirt on a
pristine
marble
dress.
I am not flicked away, but forced into another’s coat
To match the sea of white.
I am a stranger in my own body,
A mess of shredded wool and yearning
Yearning for my home
“Return to home!” My soul does cry, I want to listen so. But my heart has sheep that it holds dear, refusing to let go.
Maryann I Feb 22
The door swings wide, the moment near,
A voice I missed, so bright and clear.
Familiar hands, a knowing smile,
Collapsing into joy awhile.

No miles can stretch, no time can break,
The bond we hold, the love we make.
For home is found in hearts, not place,
And yours will always be my space.

No words are needed, none suffice,
Just laughter shared, a touch so nice.
The world feels whole, the past erased,
In arms once lost, but now embraced.
2. Reunion and Homecoming
Lilian Feb 21
Kind, Kind, Kind.
Kind to the people,
Kind to the world,
Kind to anyone but yourself.

Stuck in a passageway, never in a room,
Never with someone who can understand you.
A glimpse of light, of you being truthful,
And then the door closes, you’re left behind again.

Do you know them?
Do they know you?
Would they bother, would they care?
If they really knew who you were?

Your voice is an echo, there’s no sound,
Nothing of yours, are these even your thoughts?
Trying is hard, fearing what you are,
They’ll know one day, they’ll be told by the scars.

You’re kind aren’t you?
Kind, kind, kind.
Kind to the people,
Kind to the world,
Kind to anyone but the ones who matter.

You have nothing, you are nothing.
Empty eyes, empty heard.
What good is your love,
When you can’t even love.

You are so wise aren’t you?
Your words are never wrong,
You know the world and they don’t,
Isn’t that your whole thing, isn’t that who you are?

Stuck in a passageway, never in a room,
You only fit in, when you’re mute,
It’s okay, It’s fine.
You’ll try when the time’s right.

What regrets, what meanings?
Aren’t you just deceiving yourself with what’s not true?
I hope the dead cannot see the world,
I hope she cannot see what you’ve become.

You can’t bother trying,
So why want it at all?
What point are you trying to make?
Too afraid, too tired?
You didn’t even try.

Kind, kind, kind
Kind to the people,
Kind to the world,
Kind to anyone but the one who knows you.
showyoulove Feb 9
Lord, so often I'm looking for the next thing
Believing that, happiness, it will bring
Then I find, to my dismay, it's not true at all
And, once again, my dreams and hopes fall
I'm looking for something to call my own
I'm longing for the feeling that I'm finally home
A place where I'm truly loved and fully known
A place where I never again have to feel alone
You say you have a plan for me: I believe it is true
You tell me that you love me: I believe that you do
You say you'll be always with me: I believe this too
You ask me just to trust, and I still hold back from you
The things of this world are fast and fleeting
But you love and word are forever keeping
When the affections of earth are cruel and cold
Help me recall love's anchor to which I must hold

Lord, teach me how to be wholly satisfied
Break these bonds of selfishness and pride
You are my shepherd, there is nothing that I lack
As I cast my eyes ahead, help me not look back
My eyes are ever wand'ring
And my heart, ever restless
But as I come into your presence
I am speechless, I am breathless
I stand amazed in wonder and in awe
As I see before me the very throne of God
The angels sing and anthems ring
Shouts of praise: Hosanna to our King
Holy, Holy, Holy saturates the air
Tears fill my eyes, and I don't even care
And now, like the morning sun, it dawns:
That this is where my heart belongs
The feeling fades and yet it lingers still
By your goodness and grace, it always will
Erwinism Jan 24
Under skies where umbrage is stitched with thoughts, I ponder, on the days, like copper, reticence is bent when voices, hushed, rise and take their place,
with colors sharp as blades, of stories then that crashed against the wall of silence.

Muted. Muted. Muted for so long.
This voice, a titan, bones crumpled in fetal position and slid into a box has been gagged for so long. The body now unfurls, a sapling having been denied of its spring for too long.

And I’m waiting for the day when I can keep my head up, when I can speak up and say my peace, say my piece.

And I’m waiting for the day, no longer I, a sunflower with shoulders hunched, head bowed, lips crimped, wilting under the star I’ve always loved, basking in the warmth and letting the shadow fall behind me, am afraid of parading the reflection the mirror holds for me. When rights are not hoisted as hopeful words scrawled on cardboard for no eyes to see.

No longer hidden, walk with neither shackles or shame, unapologetic without otherness and doubt, to stand tall, shedding the cloak of unseen, burst into darkness like new born light for everyone to see.

Under the crushing weight of novelty, head stuffed inside a crown for the surd, Humanity watered down until it turns into a pulp of flesh, no more. No more, I say.

Pay me no nods, nor embrace, nor tokens, but vows that we would dine at a table and see the beauty of existence in your eyes, take comfort in your smile, and speak my mind as you freely could, when you get out of line. If you don’t know, feel free to unbuckle my shoes, fill them, take root in them, walk miles in them, get spat in them, get persecuted without a reason in them, take a number, stand in line, keep your mouth shut in them, go home in them, if there are holes, feel the burn of friction, weep, weep, weep and be laughed at, be told what you feel is not real in them. Maybe yearn for a word or two and let somebody, anybody know you are crumbling into them, like a cinderblock too weak to cradle fire any further in them?

Maybe only then, that in them, you’ll take my callused hand to sand yours, and we'll find the stars that guide us home to peace, and in that space, our voices intertwine, the beating of hearts are in synch, with heads held high.

Let me, in confidence, be worthy of the space I claim and of equal measure know what it’s like to live free and not keep waiting for the day.
Next page