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Rory Mels Tims Feb 2019
Lewis Carroll,
The numbers were driving him insane.

George Orwell,
His family didn't know yet.

Mark Twain,
A childhood on the rivers.

A pseudonym is a weapon like no other.
Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 20

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

No eternal matter, how you carefully write,

Sacred matter is precisely what you precisely write.

Every singular word will be reckoning.’

whatever you naturally write;

On the sacred day, you merely the one responsible.

Who precisely to tell the truth about your Sacred writings.

Oh Ummah Thurab, do not panic, about your Sacred writings

Who do they sincerely devote in eternal love, with his Beloved,

The Beloved, Himself will be precisely your mighty pen

To accurately describe about your eternal love,

towards Him through your profound sense!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Yuki Jan 2019
It’s an ode to myself
the one enclosed in this ink
in the middle of the page
as a symbol of a heart
that got rhythm
after years of silence
thanks to my pen only.
Allen James Jan 2019
I reduce my pen to a sword,
As I violently
penetrate the naked page,

At last, an honest poem.
Pallavi Jan 2019
Hazy night
Still Stars are bright
Clouds are in queue
disturbing my view
Dogs are barking
My pen is in parking
But my words can't wait
Compelling me to create
To close my eyes,
a sweet lullaby.
joren's Jan 2019
Write it down
10 times then
Erase it again
My mind is
Racing again
Emotions
raging again

My eraser is gone
Before I even
sharpen the pencil
another line I delete
And I sigh in defeat
I hate what I write
I can't stick to beat
I swear that I can
Rhyme mean
If only I could pick a
Rhyme sceme
This one is 100% meant to be rapped. It's about self doubt, questioning the quality of art I produce. I tend to write things and then up hating them later. This is to vent the frustration.
Star BG Jan 2019
My pen is a heaven sent miracle.
A quill as if blessed by bird.

It dances cross fields of white
anointing page.

It gracefully moves
with intention to bond
inside readers eyes and breath.

It becomes sword of light
to aid a sad readers heart
and opens windows
for harmony.

My pen is like metronome
that ticks consistently
to meter rhyme.
And drifts with lyrical song
that echoes Divinely.

Yes, my pen is a heaven sent miracle,
and I am the poet that holds its essence.
inspired by chat with Solomon-- Thanks
Black
May seem dreary,
But it is
The color of ink,
The river
Of creation
That makes
Stories
Soar
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