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I can't even remember six-year-old me.
I don't know if she liked yellow like I do now.
I don't know if she hated spaghetti the way I do.
I don't know if she loved the sky and the clouds and the stars and the moon the way my big self does.

And I always wonder...
What would she think of me?
Are we following the dreams we had at that age?
Are we facing life with the same joy I think we would’ve had at six?
Would she ask me why I like yellow so much if she used to love pink?
What if she loved spaghetti and wanted to eat it every day?
I think maybe she did like the sky like I do.

(What’s not to like?)
soft and tender little poem of me trying to remember the sweet kid I was once
The Wicca Man Jun 28
The heat of midday has passed
giving way to a cool evening breeze.
The Sun is slowly falling into the horizon
and its beams cast lengthening shadows.

Other than the gentle rustling of the trees,
as the wind breathes over the leaves,
the only sounds are the trilling of insects
and the glorious birdsong
sharing the warmth of a summer’s eve.

We sit in silence,
letting the warm rays caress us,
basking in the tranquility of the scene.

I feel my eyes growing heavy
as a calmness envelops me
and a sense of joy
washes away my cares.

You whisper,“Look!”
and opening my eyes
I catch my breath as I view the sky
turning vibrant orange and red
as the Sun touches that distant horizon.
The sailing Sun
Burns through the sky
With huge clouds of black and purple
Hot on her tail.

We all pray that she beats them to the horizon,
That we might remember this day as a beautiful one.
Seren Jun 15
Fires turned to cold, hard stone,
Joy replaced by nights alone.
I offered you the shore, the sky
You watched in silence, passed me by.
Now I let go of sweet old dreams,
The late-night thoughts, the quiet beams.
Steve Souza Jun 11
stamps today.
One for you,
one for me—
and I crossed my fingers
for clear skies.
Megan Jun 4
In the shadows of a dead city,
where feet tap cracked pavement
and broken fluorescents blink,
there hovers a sphere of soft glow.

You might call it the sky’s cheese,
but I call it a nightlight—
hovering low like a searchlight
for the ******.

Never spoken of
unless it’s full,
a beacon for a wolf’s howl,
an ear for your secrets
when no one else listens.
Tat May 29
Spacious silence, I inhale her sweetish scent.
She’s so close, here, internal.
The dawn reveals the horizon,
I can't help but breathe her.
Vermilion clouds disperse where
I will meet her again.

Stars twinkle elsewhere,
the darkness recedes and somewhere behind
I hear the last whispers of the night.
These whispers merge with the rhythm of my heart.
I was with her,
I surrendered to her gloom,
it covered my skin, I inhaled it.
Every beat of my heart resonated with her breath.
The stars faded in my eyes
and I slowly sank in her rhythms.

So high.
Pain no longer mattered.
I devote.

The sun will rise quickly,
blue and white fragments of clouds will fly away
to rain down and vanish into infinity.

Silence seeps in the sounds of a new day.
She is still on my mind.
Our moment is eternal.

She is glaring and majestic.
She lures birds,
makes them return again and again,
lie down on her flows and
slowly die forgetting about food.
Her depth is infinite.
Love.

The wind passes her power.
Storms, waves and the earth -
everything is for her.
She gives and takes back.
And only at the edge
I will look in her eyes.

She will appear with a cry of a rain,
shed unrestrained tears,
the wind will be lost in the agony of fire.
Her mad rage is frightening.
But few know her as I do.
Few believe that she is the love,
to which everyone is doomed.

She is riotous,
frenzied and mysterious.
Her gaze freezes the blood.

When the next night comes,
the moon will cover shadow with cold rays,
I will give all my feelings to its obscurity.

I bow down to her.
She totally fascinated me.

A gentle touch,
A faint smile,
she will smudge
the night sky.
She will weave a wreath
of clouds and stars.

She finally crowns me with that beautiful wreath.
Death.
Ukrainian: … тиша, вдихаю і наповнююсь нею.
світанок оголює горизонт,
а я не можу надихатись.
кармінні хмари розсіюються там,
де я вкотре зустріну день.

Зорі мерехтять,
темінь відступає і десь позаду
я чую прощальний шепіт ночі.
Ледь чутно він зливається з ритмом
мого серця.
Ми були вдвох:
кожен стук мого серця
зливався з її подихом.
Зорі танули в моїх очах,
я повільно тонула в її
ритмах.
Біль більше не мав значення.
Люблю.

Сонце підійметься швидко
і білим кругом
повисне над горизонтом.
Синьо-білі обривки хмар
розлетяться,
щоб колись впасти дощем.
Тиша
просочується музикою нового дня.
А я все не можу її забути.
Наша з нею мить
вічна.

Вона світла й велична.
неволить птахів,
змушує повертатись знову і знову,
лягати на її потоки і
повільно вмирати, забуваючи про їжу.
Вона безмежна.
Любов.

Вітер рознесе її силу,
грози, хвилі і земля - все для неї.
Вона дарує і забирає.
І лише на краю
я зможу поглянути в її очі.

Вона зʼявиться криком грози,
пролиє нестримні сльози,
вітер загубиться  в агонії вогню.
її шалена лють страшна.
Та мало хто знає її як я.
Мало хто вірить, що вона - любов,
на яку приречений кожен,
Вона нестримна,
несамовита й загадкова,
своїм поглядом заморожує кров.

Коли прийде наступна ніч,
місяць холодом обдасть
тіні,
я віддам всі відчуття цій темряві.

Опущу погляд
в надії знову зустріти пітьму - таку ж,
яка колись мене заворожила.
Досить…
Прощай.
JAMIL HUSSAIN May 27
O’ if the rose were given leave to sigh,
Or if the ocean wept for beauty’s sake,
Such tears would flood the ramparts of the sky,
And bid the sleeping stars in awe awake.
Yet thou, unknowing, passest through the dawn,
A muse unbound, in mortal semblance drawn.

So let the heavens bend to kiss thy tread,
And night adorn thee with her silver thread;
For in thy gaze, this fleeting world doth see
A glimpse of what the soul was born to be.
And I, a poet lost in mortal guise,
Have glimpsed the infinite through earthly eyes.

Though time may fade the bloom from beauty’s cheek,
Its echo in thy light shall ever speak.
Through Earthly Eyes 27/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
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