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JAMIL HUSSAIN Feb 17
In the quiet of a moonlit night, Jamil stands still, surrounded by the whispers of his own heart. Each eye—each voice within him—begins to speak, each sharing its own perspective on love. They reveal the depths of their thoughts, all of them united in one truth: that love, in its countless forms, is the most profound and intricate experience one can know. And so, Jamil listens, his heart wide open, as the eyes of his soul speak to him in rhymes and rhythms, each offering their own vision of love.

Starry Eyes:
“Love is the light that whispers on high,
A glimmer that dances in the midnight sky.
Infinite, silent, it guides with grace,
A celestial touch in time and space.”

Caring Eyes:
“Love is the warmth in a tender embrace,
A healing touch, a soft, kind face.
It’s the quiet that soothes, the gentle hand,
A steady heart that helps you stand.”

Practical Eyes:
“Love is built on time’s steady beat,
A promise kept, a vow complete.
It’s not in fleeting passion’s fire,
But in quiet work and hearts that aspire.”

Jealous Eyes:
“Love is a treasure, delicate and rare,
To guard it close with tender care.
A flame that flickers, a spark to keep,
Guard it well, lest it fall too deep.”

Fierce Eyes:
“Love is a storm that cannot be tamed,
A fire that burns, an unquenchable flame.
It sears the soul, it takes no pause,
Love is the wildest of untamed laws.”

Shy Eyes:
“Love is a whisper, soft and shy,
A glance, a smile, a secret sigh.
It blooms in silence, like a flower in the dark,
Hidden, yet bright, with a silent spark.”

Broken Eyes:
“Love can break, but still it mends,
A crack in the heart that time defends.
From the ruins, it rises anew,
Love’s strength is born from pain we knew.”

Open Eyes:
“Love is endless, wild and free,
A dance of joy, a storm at sea.
It is both light and dark combined,
A journey, unbound, for hearts to find.”

Lustful Eyes:
“Love is the heat, the touch, the fire,
A blaze that burns with fierce desire.
It flares up sudden, wild and free,
A breathless chase, a symphony.”

Gorgeous Eyes:
“Love is beauty, a divine creation,
A canvas of light, a sweet temptation.
It’s the art that makes the soul take flight,
A vision that dazzles, pure and bright.”

Jamil:
“Now I see, love’s many hues,
A fire, a whisper, a moment that renews.
It is fierce and soft, in every part,
A dance of soul, a work of art.”
The Eyes Speak: A Rhythmic Tale of Love 17/02/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Mina Feb 17
I get excited for another ride
On the bus of life we go
The limit of the view is my sight
The end of the road is death,
Or at least as far as i know

But the colors of the city dried out
They look faint, They're ugly and bold

But how old am i to think that
how many lies I've been told

Since when did my sight go bad
Since when I've lost all hope
Since when did the city go gray
Since when did the sun get old

The bus of life wont wait for me
but i have no reason to go

The colorful city stays bright
But i can't see anything, I can't let go
I'm starting to hate my life day by day
Mark Wanless Jan 19
right arm fast bending
long bow to masters keen sight
boar clan well fed
Jeremy Betts Jan 15
Foresight
No conclusions
Could be wrong, maybe right
Try seeing through the night without
Moonlight

©2025
~ Cinquain ~
The first line and the last line mirror one another in sound, and the number of syllables increases by two with each line before abruptly decreasing: 2-4-6-8-2.
~
The word Cinquain is the French word for "bundle of five objects."
~
Ylzm Jan 11
Light cannot and does not know who lit it or snuffed it out
Neither does it know if its light was used for good or evil
For shameless evil is more believed when seen by the blind
Whereas good hide in dark searched for by the sighted
No glory to be lit or snuffed, foolish to boast or despair
But in peace assured: grace suffices whether you burn or not
And there's no dark in good, and light's to judge the blind
Jeremy Betts Nov 2024
I swear...
I didn't mean to **** the best of me
Or squash what I like in me
Yet here I stand
****** weapon in hand
My essence
Dripping down the blade
Like rain from a cloud
Or tears of a clown
Landing on the razors edge
A familiar sight and sound

©2024
Chris Saitta Oct 2024
Death is my own covetous possession,
A hand-me-down with the worn edges
Of a closed, burnished keepsake box.

Death is the memory of a tree-lined walk,
A daguerreotype, a trompe-l'oiel des bois,
Sight itself turned within, but without end,
A forest of unstirring eyelashes, like long uncut grass,

Death is the stillness of pewter leaves,
And sorrow is sadness in love with itself.
🎃 JACK-O-LANTERNS 🎃
filled with LIGHTS,
A DAY of HALLOWEEN at NIGHT,
Giving CHILDREN and PEOPLE DELIGHT,
It's HAUNTING time, PREPARE for a FRIGHT.

HALLOWEEN is almost HERE,
The People are FRIGHTENED, and
The MONSTERS CHEER,
RUN-n-GO HIDE the FEELING OF FEAR,
RUNAWAY AND DISAPPEAR!!

ADRENALINE RUSHING All over you,
The FEAR of SPOOKS is long OVER DUE,
THE SPOOKY SEASON is ALMOST HERE,
HALLOWS EVE is CLOSE AND NEAR!!

Prepare yourself
for a FRIGHTFUL NIGHT of
ALL HALLOWS EVE
with FEAR IN SIGHT!!!


B.R.
Date: 10/26/2024
Malia Oct 2024
The mantis shrimp
Sees all that I never could.
My creator, ever frugal,
Gave me gifts
Of word and tongue
But only just this once,
Bits of light cowed by the sun.

I peer through the window,
Too short to see those
Violet peaks.

I brush past reality
Like the eyelash fluttering past
My cheek,
Never to really know.
Occhiolism:

n. the awareness of how fundamentally limited your senses are—noticing how little of your field of vision is ever in focus, how few colors you’re able to see, how few sounds you’re able to hear, and how intrusively your brain fills in the blanks with its own cartoonish extrapolations—which makes you wish you could experience the whole of reality instead of only evercatching a tiny glimpse of it, to just once step back from the keyhole and finally open the door.
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