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Kassan Jahmal Feb 10

alone and happy on the 14th
i rise to the occasion; as it's
beautiful rose


roses that are red, and violence not so
new. sugar lips of a nightmarish diabetic kiss,
but what stops a love sick fool

               ..i sit back, and watch the view


a heart made of steel
someone stole your heart easily, cos you're
leaving the windows of your eyes so open;
there's going be a lot of robberies this
Valentine's day


here's to a valentine red:

red as the flags of one you
should avoid with caution
red as the daring run of emotions
being chased by a bull
red as the tomato of a terrible first
kiss, causing acid reflux
red as the overdrawing of your account
all to prove you value someone for a day


"would you be my Valentine,"
he asked her on his knees

A chuckle she gave, "tis these only
few times I have a man on his knees,
afterwards spoiling me with dinner and
eating out"

                                               wink, wink.
Kassan Jahmal Aug 2022
To the awaited vineyard—as shaky lips are no more.
A taste of Devine; desirable passion burning as a fierce
fire. —As like my God, who has consumed my bare heart
of ravaging love.

My hungry eyes, burn eternal for my spouse.
As like ten million stars—so bright; I am blinded by love.
It is young, and untamed. As the mighty steed, wanting to
seed mates. Love is wild; but under the one you truly love,
shall it be tamed.

Shall your ears quake at the voice of your love— as your
lips call their name. It will be as the flower, twisting itself
towards the glory light. As the appetency of waters, the
nurturing and care. I pray where you set your dreams, your
love be there.

May the shape of their love be pleasing in your eyes.
As the romances be anew, of a new experiences night.
Prize them as something you could never afford, care for
them as the only you hold. Bring them up as righteous,
and blameless to the Lord. Pure and untainted —speak to
their ear the beauty of His Word.

I entreat to all. Love your beloved, as Christ loved the church.
I entreat to all. Respect your beloved, as they see you of your
Elkhan Asgar Jan 2022
Mənə hər bir şeydən əziz sənə mən,
Şeir həsr etməyə qorxuram, birdən,
Oxuyub, məndən də gənc, layiqli biri,
Səni mən tək sevər, mən kimi qəlbdən.
* * *
Mənə hər bir şeydən doğma səni mən,
Vəsf etməyə qorxdum, sevən kəs birdən,
Öz sevdiciyinə eşqin bildirər,
Səninçün tapdığım gözəl sözlərdən.
Ceyhun Mahi Oct 2021
That book, it was a drop of my youth's ocean,
Without filter I recorded each emotion.
I may have left my older verses now,
But through my pen its flow is still in motion.
I've written more than 600 poems in my teenage years, most are found on my profile.
Every time you read a poem,
it would be different than previous.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and add warmth into raw words of obvious.
A poem is a mystery to everyone,
filled with pain and desires.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and arrange the words before they expire.
A poem can make lifeless person feel alive,
but make the mind a horrific place.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and let words flow in their own space.
A poem could be difficult to understand,
because it possesses calm and clash.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and avoid words to turn into ash.
If poems would be written on the skin,
everything would bleed and shed.
Poets shape verses accordingly,
and instead of vintage words turn red.
-Aishwarya Kulkarni
Savio Fonseca Dec 2020
Each Time I think of U,
I pen My Thoughts.
Rhyme them in Verses,
that end up with Dots.
Our Love Story that began,
in the month of November.
Is no more a Story,
I would want to Remember.
U filled My Heart,
with Sorrow and Pain.
All My Hard work,
went down in Vain.
The Love Letters U wrote,
I've torn them to Pieces.
I'm now a Man in Pain,
a Pain that never Ceases.
Nylee Jun 2020
My best verses are never written
Nor do anyone gets to listen
They dance in my mind
every word properly bind

The words conjuring the bliss
the smallest sentences
with deepest meanings

disappear when I take out my pen

and start over a blank sheet
with one word staring back
Composed and forgotten

In dark abyss
absence of words in canvas
Cannot remake the very rhyme
The painted masterpiece
Stolen away as
Reality strikes again
TIZZOP May 2020
writers can have a writer's block
they may end up as a skeleton
sitting at a desktop, holding a pen
take a picture of the soul, survive

looking at it kills every distraction
listen to the indecisive winds; they float
in each nutshell is another nutshell, right?
a letter will cause more letters, won't it?

the picture of the soul: take it
walk through the ruins of the night
watch stars rolling over heavens
don't think about your inner, don't think

the horizon of fear swallows poems
poems that have never existed
the horizon of fear is a writer in disguise
poets will never be able to spot this creature

sometimes, we want to write a lot
sometimes, we want to write less
take a picture of the soul and go on
come on: take this picture, my friend

the ruins of the night are made of letters
skinny letters will grow into heavy words
words become verses and they transform
come on: take this picture, my friend

a picture of the soul kills all the ghosts
write about it and let go, heaven and hell yeah!
vampires and writers adore the ruins of the night
a blank desk, now covered with words and muse

this poem doesn't have an end but a final
i am sending you these letters, here they are
chaos quietly rages in rivers of newness
take a picture of the soul, take these letters, friend
Tonight is a good night.

Inspired to write this poem by:
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