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Poet is he who

Transcribed this verse

He who saw the nature

He who touched the sky

He who felt the birds

He who heard the river

He who tasted this Earth.
Who is a poet?
I can't write a word
Or even pickup a pen
I wish I had hands
Twalib Mushi Apr 18
I take my pen
As i want to stand still
Applaud their pain
Everything is against their will
For their lives they had a plan.

Being separated from their family
how they're starving
Do they deserve?
how they're suffocating
This isn't correct
how they become homeless
Nobody wants to address this
This isn't fair.

They become more than hopeless
Snatching away their rights
Burying their dreams
Dreams of the innocent children.
Kirsty Taylor Apr 17
You hear the thud.
Put on your dressing gown, rub your eyes.
And wearily approach the door, wondering what it could be.
Another bill, another promotion in a cunning disguise?

But there it is, dressed elegantly in plain white,
With the stamp placed perfectly on the right.
You see the swirls in the handwriting,
The way they flick the k’s and how they curl their c’s.

You try to guess who sent this wonderful surprise
You pick it up with care and, for an instant, freeze
Then you abandon all restraint, and rip it apart
Desperate to read what’s at its heart.

It takes thought and love to write.
In a world full of texts, facetimes and calls.
A letter hits the spot just right.

A short story, addressed to you
And only you
A little piece of history lies in your hand
Keep these letters

Store them safely away
For they will fill your heart with joy
When you re-read them on a melancholy day
Next time you are at a loss  for something to do
I beg of you, put down that phone
Take out a pen and write a letter or two.
Raven Feels Apr 12
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, souls shatter up too:}

dear heart on glass

dear hands on a stance

dear soul on torns

dear fingers on tires

dear mind on empty

dear thoughts on screams

dear God on the heavenly winters

my pen is hindered

because of the dreams I refuse to remember

too hard for me to surrender

to cage my fury into fonts of lavender

I want them back

demand the need demand the lack

of the splutter of my nerves on the thrilling track

can life become more lifeless than that???!!!

want my body on a panic attack?

or the blades to sharpen their steeps their venture

to cut deep to flush the ink and stain it on keep

or maybe an abandonment

shut of the door they said they inclined

tires no more for a feel

Jay Apr 11
Drown me in ink.
I don't want to see anything.
I want to be choked out
On the one thing that gives life meaning.

Slit my wrists with paper.
I don't want to live anymore.
I want to bleed crimson onto the page
And give meaning to the words I write.
Years ago
A pen was found
Its grip was blue
Slightly chipped

It wrote
Everyday on sheets, white
Flawlessly on the lines
Words did glide

It had a special place
Where it rested
After a long day
At the desk

Its home was warm
A wooden drawer
Strategically placed
Easy to fetch

Now it has been years
It longs to see the desk
At dawn
A practice now clearly gone

It lay still
In the wooden drawer
Cold and blue
Ink-less dry
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