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Gritty gravel pulses beneath each stride,
Amber sun and shadow endlessly collide.
Ancient woods murmur with emerald breath,
Cold wind’s fingers trace stories of death.

Solitude tastes of iron wild, enduring,
Memory’s lantern swings through dusk, assuring.
Hope’s fragrance drifts fragile, fiercely alive,
Heartbeat echoes yearning, learning to survive.

Each forked mile births a silent plea;
Purpose flickers distant star on dark sea.
Strength is forged in crucibles unseen,
Time’s river scours stone, polishes it clean.

Dawn spills gold on trembling, waiting land;
Dreams rise, phoenix-winged at hope’s command.
Rain baptizes earth’s furrowed, open brow;
Horizons unroll scrolls of infinite now.

Every pebble mirrors the wanderer’s face
Past and future in silent embrace.
Infinity hums in the hush between;
The road dissolves self and cosmos unseen.
“The Hush Between” was born from long walks and quiet reckonings. Those moments when the world speaks not with noise but with presence. This poem reflects the internal landscapes we traverse as much as the physical ones: grief, resilience, solitude, transformation. Each line seeks to capture that in-between place where stillness carries meaning, and the road teaches more than the destination.

If this piece resonated with you, I’d love to hear where it took you. Did a particular line speak to something you’ve experienced on your own journey? Share your reflections or interpretations in the comments. I read every one.
Khushi Aug 17
The month of May — oh, may I say —
Holds an ambiguous kind of sway.
The summer sun can sometimes stay,
Or rain may fall and never stray.

It sounds like fun to bathe in light,
But when the splash hits, takes its flight,
It shifts the mood, no end in sight,
Yet still, we chase the warm delight.

It may be all safe and sound,
But may not always stick around.
You can’t deny the changing tune,
For weather shifts from sun to moon.

So swallow hard and step outside,
Prepare to face the crying sky.
Yet when the rain falls down to play,
Its scent can take you far away.

The feel of drops upon the skin,
To cleanse the sorrow buried within.
The joy of flowers in the showers,
Though May’s soft grace may not be ours.
May teaches us that joy and sorrow often arrive hand in hand. Its skies remind us to embrace change, whether it comes as sunlight or rain .This piece is a reminder that even uncertainty can hold its own kind of grace.
Oh, how sweetly meadowlarks trill,
Come the eve, soft and still,
Bathed in golden, dying light,
Making way for starry night.
A poem about the loveliness of the evening.
Arna May 28
Passing clouds...
Soft blowing winds...
Melodious bird chirps...
Lushy green bushes...
Soothing cool waves...
Beautiful flower gardens...
Sunrise and sunsets...
Stary nights...
Calming moonlight...

Little things of nature yet give unknown happiness and sense of peace.
In the quiet of little things, nature reminds us that peace doesn’t shout—it softly stays.
Ahmed Gamel Apr 20
In her presence,
a quiet dawn breaks,
soft and steady,
like the first light of day.

Her heart speaks in whispers,
a language I’ve always known,
no words needed,
just a feeling,
like the earth calling me home.

Her smile is the calm
that stills the storm inside,
a gentle breeze on a restless sea,
where I can find peace,
where I can finally breathe.

She holds the weight of the world
with a grace that never falters,
turning every moment
into something warm,
something true.

I don’t need to understand it all—
I just need to feel it,
this quiet, tender magic
that wraps itself around me,
whispering that it’s okay
to simply be.

And in her gaze,
there’s a garden,
where every part of me can grow,
where every shadow finds its light,
and I can rest
in the softness of her soul.
This poem is a quiet reflection on the calming presence of someone who helps you find peace, grow, and reconnect with your truest self. In a world full of noise, sometimes the most profound feelings are the simplest ones—like a soft breeze or the warmth of a sunrise. Writing this was an exercise in capturing those small but significant moments of stillness and love that make life worth living.

I hope it resonates with you, whether you’re seeking peace in your own life or simply need a reminder of the beauty in quiet connection.
KN Apr 14
There was no one to hear my laments
So I told them to the wind
The wind told them to the trees
The trees fed it to nature
And nature understood.
dead poet Feb 6
perilous forests
lay bare: sheer, dark, and sincere;
so many secrets.
dead poet Jan 6
butterflies flutter -
reach for the nectar of life;
winds change direction.
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