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Styles Jun 2023
In the realm of love, a piercing tongue,
Rendered my heart useless,
Leaving me with canvas of pain
Nidhi Jaiswal Aug 2020
In an open hut
There was a hole in the roof
from which sunlight comes on hut.

In every evening
sitting on the wooden chair in front of hole
i thought my past and future
i cried loudly
My soul was dead for two moments of happiness
My tears was red like blood
Who started falling on the ground every evening
By din't of this
Earth crust is like red.

One evening
Again i sit on my wooden chair
Clouds started thundering ...
lightning started shining...
Hut started moving...
Cloud started like raining...
i was lost in my memories
i cried,and tears like blood.

But that evening,
my tears become colorless due to rain drop
Red "danger color" disappeared
for few moments
I feel past sorrowful memories
Are flow like water
A new thought come on my mind,
that is filled with my sweet memories,
Of past and future which gives me happiness.

This poem is based on sorrow and past moment of our life,
That is based on imagination.
The title"wooden chair in the hut"
filled with deep sorrow and great happiness.
I just share my ideas with everyone.
Jenish Jul 2020
I was on a plantain branch
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
She put her bangles on a rock
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
Glimpse of gold, shined my eyes
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
I took it and flew back home
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
A cry of fury trembling hut,
I wonder why she made that fuss.
With a bit of twinge I shout,
“One I took, three with you!”
Still her rage in frenzy mood,
Crowd is fanning flames to grow,
In my nest it shine and rest,
Golden bangles shining lust.
Then I went back looking around,
To watch the jokers in a run,
But my eyes in surprise hunt,
The bustle of hut in deep slumber.
Oh! Again this gold will turn
me a golden queen of crows.
Another bangle on the rock,
I took it and flew back home.
What a foolish bird I’m!
Fallen on their tricky trap.
They found my nest and climbed up tree,
My two bangles went with them.
Salmabanu Hatim Aug 2019
I live in a luxurious  apartment,
She lives in a makeshift hut in the slums,
I sleep on the most comfortable bed,
She sleeps on the floor,
I have a chef and maids to cater for me,
She has her mum and siblings to cater for her,
My chef cooks tasty meals with latest gadgets,
Her mum cooks on firewood the best meals I have ever tasted,
For there is love of her mum in it.
I eat mostly alone,
My family have no time ,each busy in his/her own life,
Her family eats together on the floor and her mum sometimes feeds her,
They joke and laugh together,
I sit alone in my room , busy on my computer, doing homework or chatting,
After dinner her family sits outside the hut gossiping with neighbours while she does her homework under the streetlight .
I enjoy being at my friend's place more because she always has her family who cares,
There is laughter and happiness at her place although they have so little,
They are content with what they have,
I am glad I have a friend like her and her family to share.
neha yamba May 2019
Shutting the window close
He insisted her to sit near the fireplace
He knew this time the winter wind was ice cold

Silence was whooshing his ear
He long for her to sing , Her song ..
The same song which sparked their relationship so strong ..
Her song which brought life to this brick-wood home
He longed for her laughs .. his sunshine

Her cheeks were numb
and hand shivering as she picked the chair up ,
He quickly held her hand and rubbed them with warmth
He said a silent prayer ,
for summer to come soon
But somewhere deep he knew the warm weather
Maxim Keyfman Sep 2018
in a wooden old hut which
I'm already standing and sitting and reading
which day my lamp burns there
which day I sit and write
it is there looking out the window looking at the forest
looking at a tree looking at owls and deer

and playing the piano occasionally rarely
playing and playing and playing I look again
in the sun to the moon on the clouds that
have lain in all this and everything again and again
day after day not going anywhere nowhere
leaving I sit and sit in my chair in the hut

a girl in my dreams
how she schemes
is her laughter that hallows such a boon
with these silver spoons
that raw action bakes her tan and bare behind
and bathe me there in South Beach again
that lies beneath her sand
in her bungalow under a tree
a folding of cheers furthermore a cookie nestled ****
till overcast desire now stay by the sun
remember the campfire girls?
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