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raahii 2d
"हम देखते हैं उन्हें नज़रे चुराकर,
इतने हसीन हैं वो।
देखते हैं उन्हें शर्माते हुए, मुस्कुराते हुए,
क्या अदा है वो।
जब वो ज़ुल्फ़ सवाँरे, परियाँ सी लगती हैं,
इन्हीं अदाओं से कायल करती हैं वो।"
This explores romantic admiration and infatuation, celebrating the subject’s beauty, grace, and irresistible charm
Rose Adriel Dec 2024
Gratifying sounds...
Delightful notes...
Each mirroring a sonnet of faith,
All conducting an aura of afroth !
For how could She, be such a gifted one ?!?

Sui generis" is the word,
Lyrical bliss per a chord,
Beauty as such an award...

A delicate Goddess within Her craft;
Why can't I spot any blunder in it ?!?
Soothing, soothing, soothing...
As pleasing as it can be;
She's of a divine femininity,
Yet, not precisely picturing Her glory,
Falling short in delineating Her charm.

Woman... O woman;
A certain euphoria, You conceive,
An eyeful masquerade, You evolve in,
An addictive healing, Your manoeuvre became to me.

~ A. Rose
In this life, I think that we've all met a woman/man, who has evidently struck something in our soul... This piece honours the emotions & feelings which have been kept a secret, somehow buried deep inside our darkened and oblivious inner self. I would personally classify this poem as, an analysis of Self, when it comes to a love that has never been achieved.
Or, you might also interpret it as an anonymous letter to an individual, depicting each facets concerning one's sentiments about her/him.
dead poet Dec 2024
dull and lustless,
i walk the streets -
looking at the trees -
the sweet shops
the library
the branded cabs
the grass fields  
the trickling pipes  
the street performers
the brown leaves
the eagle’s flight
the day
the ‘real’ men
the ‘real’ women
the idea of them
the average joes  
the instagram ******  
the mindless jocks
the humbler saints
the rich folks
the poor lepers
the clay pots
the rain
my life;  
all devoid of charm.

what’s left to do,
but seek love?
Zywa Dec 2024
Heaven allures us,

a scent of higher honey --


draws us to full height.
Poem "Het lied der dwaze bijen" ("The song of the foolish bees", 1934, Martinus Nijhoff)

Collection "Passage Passion"
bucketb0t Dec 2024
Man's best friend is his worst fiend.
Tip the photographer, not the dealer
let alone the unlucky charm.

As a bucketbot
I have a spare part
sadly kidney lost
broken heart left
Kiba got his cut.

That hand's bet...
dead-certain-debt

One question left:
Did he eat or sell it?
Goofy plushky white fur  
by no means pure
paws all false pretense...

Italian goon!
Couldn't be more tense.
I am a goner!
Inspired by Buckethead's song "Electronic Slight of Hand", after a night of playing cards with my sweetheart Claudia in which my husky kept messing up the cards.
Zywa Jun 2024
A sorcerer doesn't

need a wand or other stuff --


Words are sufficient.
Novel "The Enchantress of Florence" (2008, Salman Rushdie), part 1, chapter 5

Collection "Low gear"
My Dear Poet Apr 2024
She said,
“My name is a flower, you see”

I said “Lily…it must be?”
She said, “no, no, no!…

...a Lily…is soooo,
not as beautiful
as me”


She replies
bashfully and wise
I’m just as much beauty to the eyes
as I am to the nose.”


“Oh!…you must be Rose”
She laughed
and cried more ‘no’s’

“It sounds a little crazy
I know and maybe…
but you must be a Daisy??”


she giggled all the more
“who knows?”
and winked
“.. if only baby”

Finally,
I put my thinking aside
I tell no lie,
while I, still in my head
wondering

she sighed

”My names not ‘white’ or ‘plain’
‘Self raising’ “
, she said
”…is my name”.
neth jones Dec 2023
(who blew the bulb ?) everywhere is bright    ever­ything is eyes   can't see you    in your mirror-mail-shard suit    i'm blinded  /  bladed  /  paraded to the roots / hear this chime ? /  this overwhelming chime / it's in all the things but    has predatory gut / it’s not vital  /  it’s hurt  /  spumming out allure    evident byproduct    you've stuffed it all down    clutted all the drains    of your fawning audience   burning hair   compounded the body    with capillary blain  / majesty,   your maj-jest-tea ;   it’s dishonesty ; you are what you are but you don't want to be-(you're not pleased) get you down from there sire ( if-you-please )  and grow an honest hovel / everything’s on discount    mo­ther-******* discount    it's a travesty    you are a misery (dismount) you were far from what you harm    now you keep it close    you snake just like a charmer / you slither you basket  you rascal  piping lewd at the tourist youths / such a hassle / bring on photography   the *******    it's embarrassing   it’s emm-bhar-rass-sing     (who blew the bulb ?)
Was listening to Deceptacon by Le Tigre when I started this one

[[and you'll have me for your tourist night to filthen you foreign /reign of the ***** fun / funding me to make you my ashtray / ****** final / biohazard bag / you haggard rag]]
Goddess of USR Dec 2023
In the heart of Dublin's misty embrace,
Where cobbled streets whisper ancient secrets,
I stand, a pilgrim seeking solace,
And weave my tale of love, redemption, and forgiveness.

TheThird Key, a relic of our shared past,
Lies dormant, waiting for its turn to unlock,
Not a door of wood or iron, but the chambers within,
Where echoes of hurt and healing intertwine.

He, the wanderer, once lost in shadows,
His footsteps faltered, love's path obscured,
Yet now, with courage forged through trials,
He approaches the threshold anew.

I know you are sorry, whispered by the wind,
Carried across the Liffey's silver ripples,
A melody of remorse, soft as the harp's strings,
And I, the listener, attuned to its bittersweet refrain.

Patience, a virtue etched into my bones,
For time dances differently in Dublin's alleys,
And forgiveness blooms like wildflowers,
Resilient, despite the scars etched upon our souls.

He, the alchemist of his own transformation,
Brewing potions of self-awareness and growth,
Each drop a testament to his inner aliveness,
As he raises his vibrational frequency, inch by sacred inch.

Undying love, a tapestry woven with threads of hope,
Stitched by moonlight and whispered promises,
I hold it close, this fragile gift, and offer it freely,
For love, once kindled, burns eternal.

And so, my Love, as the third time approaches,
Know that I stand here, arms open wide,
Compassion flowing like the River Dodder,
And forgiveness, a beacon guiding us home.

Third time's a charm, they say,
But ours transcends mere superstition,
For in this Dublin twilight, hearts entwined,
We rewrite our story—a symphony of grace.

Let the third key turn, unlocking not just doors,
But the chambers where love heals and forgives,
And may our souls dance, unburdened,
As we step into the charm of forevermore. 🗝️💕
For CBM of Dublin sent with a thousand kisses💋🦋
Styles Jan 2023
I feel an eruption building, inside me.
the overwhelming pressure explodes,
shooting streams of emotion through me
touching places I never knew existed.
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