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Ellie 2h
As silence so loud
Seems they're not proud
All I've done for the crowd
Unknown like my sound

I stand too tall
Afraid I might fall
Alone in a hall
I'll be the greatest one of all
I feel like a shadow
Maria 7h
Amidst the crowd she’s alone,
Amidst all hundreds of friends and others.
She’s alone. She sits by herself.
Amidst empty and worthless dialogues.

It’s as if she’s being overlooked.
It’s like as if she’s in silence cloud.
Her thoughts are quiet for all them.
She’s far away. She’s lost in the crowd.

She lives in her own world of dreams,
Without fictions, lies and falsehood.
Her footsteps are quiet for others as streams.
Nobody knows what'll be her remote.

And she lives in her tiny world.
Worries and fears are endless there.
It seems as if she’s attached in whole
To all her pain, which bites and bares.
Thank you very much for reading this poem! 💖
O’ eyes! You bore the echo of the Throne,
And gazed as if the stars were all your own.
Majestic eyes, whose silence made me whole —
You gazed, and in that gaze — you kissed my soul.
You Kissed My Soul 15/06/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Wind drifting through grass
At my feet, it stops and moans
Wind breaks- moaning ends
When the wind stops, silence remains- the moment of stillness.
Can't get this page to fill
This pen is bleeding white noise

Creators are made off their failures
And achy finger joints

I'm digging untill my back breaks
Silence I won't accept

I promise
Next time I'll feel the words
I'll write
If they return
Spicy Digits May 27
Tiptoeing past the cemetery
Barefoot and free
The 1am beckoning hour
When I am no longer me

Draped in midnight hues
Unshackling of roles,
My body glides in sacred silence
As a piece of the whole

Leave your lamp on,
String lights, windchimes
My pain will wander quietly through
Returning at half-light

And when everyone wakes
I hold on again til night
And tiptoe past the cemetery
Away from the streetlights.
As you entered the room
stirring air with suppleness of walk
waking up the stillness with jingles of cymbals
making curtains dance to the sound of bangles
aroma wafted into air from canvas and copybooks
my paintbrush grew restless
and pen became enraptured
my eyes, hands and other parts
became electrified.

My heart spread rainbow in the room
like colours of youth and
lilts of life's melodies.

You who are sitting before me
have the power to
change my consciousness
into painting, poem, melody
or anything else!

I know you'll speak no truth at this time.
I've to be guided
solely by your silence, your eyes and
the inaudible appeals of your heart.

I've to settle before I lose the presence of mind-
whether I should use brush or pen
or my eyes, hands or something else
and create a unique
composition
all in you.

-०-
Note - This poem was originally written in Nepali language. This translation has been rendered by Abhi Subedi,
During the chess game,
she made a good move.
I smiled a little,
typed:
"Nice"

Just felt right.
A simple thing.
No reply.
We played on.
It ended—a draw.

Then came her words.
First:
"indian"

I blinked.
Felt the air shift.
Then, second:
"monkey"

I just sat there.
Not hurt yet. Not angry.
Just… stunned.
Like: is this real?
I typed back:
"Why"

I added:
"You broke my heart"

I read it again.
Still stunned.
I didn’t know her.
Didn’t do anything.
We just played.

Then she dropped:
"virginity"

That word.
Out of nowhere.
Then:
"i no interesed"
"bye"

It didn’t sting.
It didn’t burn.
It just confused me.
Like the wind changed direction
and I wasn’t ready.

I wrote:
"Virginity?"
"What are you saying?"

No reply.
Just me,
sitting with a drawn game
and a question
I never saw coming.

Hope this poem reaches you.
To Juana Dayana
Of Colombia—
From HRS,
An Indian soul,
Caught in a drawn game’s pull.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
It was just a game—until it wasn’t. A simple move, a small smile. Then her words came—sudden, sharp, and strange. This poem is me, still trying to make sense of that moment.
Ava Jun 7
Silenced
Silence can be the loudest
It says the most
Like a ghost
It also has a story
This silence
It’s overwhelming
The calm before the storm
Then the question
Why was I born
The silence is now quiet
No answer
But your eyes speak
Those haunting eyes
Daunting
Avoiding
Avoiding me
Why
Silence
This cursed silence makes so much noise—
and the way its echoes ring is unbearable.
Ever since I rented out the upstairs room,
it's just been Che... Che... all day long.

If I hadn't taken an advance,
I would've kicked them out long ago.
Now even the walls of the house-
seem to be turning the same color...
How sometimes, even the walls begin to wear your mood.
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