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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,
Zywa Jun 7
To be touched
I have to
be seen and heard

speak sweet words
with a smile
Ever sweeter words

But you
give me perfume, a fishnet dress
and black-red lingerie

You like to explore
me as new
with pinches and kisses

the hard in the weak
curious about my cuddliness
and the little sounds I will sigh

You have so little patience
and pay me little
attention
Collection "More"
She entered
like dusk slips through curtains—
slow, deliberate,
never asking
to be noticed.

The lamp flickered.
He watched
as her earrings swung
like pendulums
measuring silence.

She undressed
without touching a seam.
The room tilted
as if memory
had gravity.

His fingers hovered
over the curve of her hip
like a prayer
he no longer believed in.

They moved
like fire learning
its shape
in a spoon of oil—
quiet first,
then chaos.

Somewhere,
a rain began
they could not hear
but tasted
in the salt between breaths.

Then—
stillness.

Not peace,
but aftermath.
She lay back,
a wound wrapped in moonlight.

He stared
at the crack
in the ceiling—
noticing it
for the first time.

The room smelled of iron
and orange peel,
as if something holy
had burned
and vanished.

She left
before the hour turned.
Her body stayed
for days
in the folds of the sheet—
a crease,
a heat,
a warning.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
She didn’t speak—her skin carried the storm.
Ken Pepiton May 20
an exceptionalist insisted on praying for my recent heresies -
-- answer or devote a moment of silence... my mortal flaw
--- ask not if you wish you never need account for knowing

Done lightly, is it ever done right, or must
devotees be cognizant to the right use
of dedicated hearts and minds,
by kings and courts many holier than most of us.

We can easily agree, no heavy hueristical premises,
what a participent in a war party accepts as duty
to God and Country, locally, those convinced,
converts given reason to die, where none was.

Duty in a warring society is to that social order's under lay.
Say, who first told the local version of labor class duty
to rear children fit for battle at the nation's call…
or, at the authorized voice of truth's spirit's call…

Give us more John Waynes and Ronald Reagans
-but we settle for Donald Trump and cheer,
signs are clear, God is still on our side
of the Gulf of Mexico…

devote(v.)
1580s, "appropriate by or as if by vow,"
from Latin devotus, past participle
of devovere
"dedicate by a vow, sacrifice oneself, promise solemnly,"
from de "down, away"
+ vovere "to vow"  ---{bend, bow, raise the right hand}
--- remain so devoted, in most faithful silence ---
----- banking on inside sacred signals ---

From c. 1600 as
"apply zealously or exclusively."
{For fear sake, we may imagine}

Auto d'fe, show of devotion- aithunk,

From 1640s as
"to doom, consign to some harm or evil,"
and the word commonly
had a negative sense in 18c.:
The second and third meanings
in Johnson's Dictionary (1755) are
"to addict, to give up to ill" and
"to curse, to execrate; to doom to destruction."

Related: Devoted; devoting.
To devote indicates the inward act, state, or feeling;
to dedicate is
to set apart
by a promise, and indicates primarily an external act;
to consecrate is
to make sacred, and refers
to an  act affecting the use or relations
of the thing consecrated .... [Century Dictionary]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=devote>

It need never stop. Participation in the answers, devoted
to thinking words redeemed
at the most first recognized cognation,
- we say that this way, a vow is spiritual by nature true.
- we agree we think so, sorta,
- we swear on air, as Donald Trump did left arm dangling…

What a Hoo-mon does is speak make believe done.

We can lie to whomever believes and, doing so, prosper
eh,
furrowed brow, go soft then,
smooth, feel face smooth, cognosis fresh,
fed and walked
until relieved, smile, feel the belly join, breathe, feel heart
full wills worths worked up
into  feeling slick
in some frictionless first intent

Participle past tense, first fret faith musters, why lie about
the very basic first premis being no doubt whatsoever, a lie?

Thus devoting the gadflies this particular damnation.
Testing reader response, while acting as first reader... as a habit... self aware certain as Socrates, I may not know the least bit of all the whys involved.
Viktoriia May 20
you know you're touch starved
when you start having dreams
of hugging someone
and of being hugged.

i have one at least once a week.
Rebecca Apr 26
My hair was all *****,
and my face all red
I felt the tears
fall in my hand.

I hated this feeling,
I hated so much!
just at the feeling
of your touch.
*I wrote this poem while I was crying because of a lost friend, and I thought: ''Oh maybe I could write a poem about it and romanticize the feeling of sadness that I have'' and here it is this poem, made by tears :-)
Help me!!!!!,
I have fallen, and
I can't get up!!!,
these burdens are
heavy, and I have just
had enough,
things have gotten
hectic, and things
are getting tough,
these rugged
mountains are rocky,
climbing on
them is getting rough,
I feel like I am Falling,
please catch me if you can,
lift my soul and my spirits, and
please help me to stand,
feed me some knowledge, and
please Help me to Understand,
give me some Inspiration,
so that I can Comprehend,
I have fallen to the ground,
So please lend me your hand!!!


B.R.
Date: 4/17/2025
The moment I started to think I'm incapable of being loved-
Was it when they took what they wanted, unprovoked?
Came too soon,
Was it when I was "a little bundle
of joy"?
Did I learn then, that I was just
a toy?
Was it then, when my father
walked away?
Was that my price to pay
for being born that day?
How could it be-when I did
nothing wrong?
You left without a word,
left me here all along.
Did I learn it before I could even
speak?

Was it when, the man, old
enough to be my grandfather grabbed my hand?
Did my breath hitch, as he whispered those awful words?
I was barely eleven, it didn't make
any sense,
his breath on my skin, the feeling of his fingertips grasping for mine,
as he'd say with a smile, "Our fingers
are making love,"
Was it the first time?
Or just the first time I remembered?

Was it when the stranger
grabbed my *******?
Was it then I was infested?
Did I learn that hands could only take,
not to give?

Did it start all  too soon?
14/2/25
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