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Tanay Sengupta Sep 2019
Darkness divine,
walk beside me.
Can we revive
what we don't see?

Through misty eyes,
we see the lies
that they disguise.
Such fallacy!

Obsessed with the shade of the night,
Blinded by the fear of the light.
Can anyone tell me oh why?
Why do we pretend to not see?

Everything's an illusion in the broad daylight.
Confusion created by the distorted lies.
Haunting us every day and every night.
Truth is an ideological sacrifice.








Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.
I have tried to do a few things in this poem, let's see if you can spot them.


Hint: Look at the metaphors, progression, flow and the syllables.
Sally A Bayan Jul 2019
Moon glows o'er night blooms
strings play "Misty,"...soft voice hums,
......serene, fragrant dusk...


Sally

-© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 28, 2019
(before the rains...)
Silverflame Apr 2019
The city's drowsiness
seeps into the bus,
leaving behind misty
eyes and empty promises
of a better tomorrow.
For a while, everything
seems perfect.
But I know I'm playing
a dangerous game
with this self-fabricated
pipedream.
It will eventually
burst and leave me
halfway there, enveloped
in a nirvana of despair.
Despite knowing this,
I still dive in; head first.
Bohemian Feb 2019
There's a little yearn and
fancy
To ramble upon those wet meadows
Breathe the mist in air,merged
With the leaves rustling on the trees about the edges
Where street lights stammer to lighten intercept
When from the neighbourhood visits the melody of someone's flute
Someone
Dwelled into the night
For awaken till this hour of it
Khoi-San Nov 2018
Rare Misty mornings

Birds chirpy pecking happy

Worms stay up longer
Misty morning just having fun
Darkness Jun 2018
One morning
misty and full
i woke up to find
no peace of mind

And while i was
changing my clothes
i suddenly felt
i was in love
Tarik Jun 2018
The smoke of my death certificate fades into the ether of the night
It is not my first.
It is not my last.
The beacon amplifies the smoke
It dances in the gleam of the incandescence
To track its path is to count the sands of the Sahara
It waltzes like a paranoid ghost showering upwards
Shimmying like an epileptic schizoid on a carousel
Jostling in an undefined constraint
Grace Feb 2018
the fog emerges from the wood
like ****** spirits from their graves
reaching to join their brethren
aloft in the sky
blocking the sun
that beckons it ascend

the horizon is aglow
in the dappled sunlight
hazy with moisture
and heavy with the dead
Ceyhun Mahi Oct 2017
Before my eyes I see a dreamy sight:
Her sleepy look does glaze over the days,
As olden vintage clothing of her sways,
Absent of strength, away from lively might.
Her autumn tresses hide her face who's bright,
Aglow surrounded by the daily rays
Who put her, except the rest, in a haze
Like a murky, filmy and misty night.

Who she might be, I do not know, alas,
She's distant from my sight, like she's to me,
But still this filmy tale I did narrate,
About a hazy mood, about a lass,
Who did inspire me. Now I hope she
Will find a bright, soothing, yet lively state.
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