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Pavel Rup Aug 14
Душа черствеет на ветру,
Душа черствеет от страданий.
Увы, под бременем судьбы
Мы строим жизни нашей зданье.

Не будешь вечно молодым,
Не будет вечного веселья.
Слеза катилась по щеке…
Как после тяжкого похмелья.

Всё понимая — всех простишь,
То мудрость жизни расцветает.
И сам с собою говоришь,
И всё кого-то вспоминаешь…

Качались вётлы на ветру,
Шумел в душе осенний ветер.
Огонь рябины не согрел —
Пусть даже день осенний светел.

Всё понимая — всё грустишь,
Улыбкой память согревая.
В окно дождливое глядишь…
Ну почему же жизнь такая?

Свободной волей дорожишь
И делаешь свои ошибки…
А время кружит и спешит,
И ожиданий грёзы зыбки.

О, грусть моя, моя печаль,
В душе гнездо свила тихонько…
И всё кого-то просто жаль!
И всхлипы слышатся ребёнка…
JAMIL HUSSAIN Aug 13
O’ Jamil! Arise, arise! The dawn awaits your flame,
Not as a flicker, faint and frail, but a sun none can tame.
Yet haste is the foe of wisdom, the traitor of the soul,
For destinies are not cast in haste, but forged in measured coal.
The mountains bow to none but those who climb with patient feet,
The ocean’s depth is not revealed by waves that blindly beat.
The pen that writes eternal tales moves with a sovereign will,
O’ Jamil, become part of the story, and be written slowly still.

Not by the fleeting breath of time, nor by the tempest’s roar,
But by the silent hand that shapes the clay to something more.
The rose that claims its bloom at once is robbed of sacred pride,
The sun ascends the eastern sky, but only with the tide.

In every heart the latent spark awaits the perfect hour,
To blaze a path through endless night with majesty and power.
But power without patience is but ash upon the breeze —
O’ Jamil! Be steadfast, walk with grace, and bend your will with ease.

Yet know — the flame that softly glows may set the world ablaze,
The gentle seed that falls in soil can birth eternal days.
No storm nor lightning need you chase; within, a sun resides,
A fearless light, a boundless charm, the Self that never hides.

So sing! Sing loud, O’ beautiful, with courage and delight —
Each step a dance upon the stars, each breath a burning light.
Write not in haste, but with a smile, the story you fulfil —
O’ Jamil, become part of the story, and be written slowly still.
Awaken Slowly 14/08/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
dee Aug 13
the awareness of the time for renewal.
how empathetic.
how profound.
the only time I wish to hold pessimism in my hands.
To **** the aspiration for connection that comes from my heart.
Along with the invisible wisdom that drains me cold.
The warmth of illusion to help me feel again.
the awareness of confusion
how insincere.
how ignorant.
even when I suffer
I think of the tree I hang from and how the fruits that bear from it whisper your name.
a sense of yearning that holds the rope in place.
it evokes a quiet shift in my reality.
once more,
a different life
I’ve had to **** another version of myself for loving you.
lol ya feel me
Marwan Baytie Aug 12
The priest came to the king,
bowed, and begged:
“Ban alcohol, sire
it’s destroying families, the whole ralm.”
The king said, without hesitation, “No.”
As the priest turned to leave,
the jester whispered:
“You should’ve asked while he was drinking.”
The priest nodded.
Too late for wisdom.
Bowedbranches Aug 11
We all have a fatalist

Inside of us

Teetering a tight rope

Trying to fight fear for a good show

Those high hopes

are defined by the lies of someone else

We are Brave despite what we tell ourselves

When the circuitry comes caving in
girlinflames Aug 23
Ordinary people
are wonderful—
in that
lies their glory.

Peace is a treasure
that money
cannot buy.
girlinflames Aug 28
It’s not about the money itself—
it’s about being happy
with the choices
I’ve chosen for myself.

But this,
I already knew.

So why did someone from outside
have to tell me
this truth
that was already here?

Because I still don’t know
how to validate
the ideas
of my own voice.
girlinflames Aug 11
I don’t aspire to high ranks
My humble little life
already so worn
is far too good to trade
for any gold that comes from hell
or any weapon that comes from heaven
None of it is worth it
if my heart holds nothing
I hope my journey
lasts many more miles of road
My verses—though not quite country songs—
bring calm
to my breath
girlinflames Aug 11
I’ve begun to realize
that great minds
don’t need a thousand words
to change a life
Often
ten
within a poem
can light up
the entire world
"You are neither here nor there,  
How can you be successful?"—a voice in the air.  
It muttered once, but I heard it thrice,  
A haunting echo, not so nice.  

I reflect deep—could this be me?  
Is it instinct or a mind not free?  
Am I imagining things in vain?  
But he is right, and I feel the strain.  

Jack of all trade and master of none,  
But one who masters will inspire someone.  
Too many tasks leave all half done,  
While one at a time brings work well spun.  

All in one is same as nothing,  
But one in one births everything.  
I do not write this to condemn,  
You can succeed with more than ten.  

But purpose and vision must lead the way,  
Without them, you’re a leaf that sways.  
A man without vision is like a trash,  
Waved by the wind in a reckless dash.  

I’m glad I’ve found my voice at last,  
Through Poetry, wisdom shall be cast.
“The Voice That Spoke” is a soul-searching poem by Nigerian poet Osahenoma Favour Moses, born from a moment of internal reckoning. It begins with a haunting voice—an echo of doubt—that challenges the poet’s scattered pursuits across multiple creative paths: acting, preaching, storytelling, and poetry. Through rhythmic reflection and layered wisdom, the poem explores the tension between versatility and focus, urging readers to discover their true calling and nurture it with purpose.

This piece is more than a confession—it’s a call to clarity. It speaks to anyone who feels stretched thin by ambition, reminding them that success is not in doing everything, but in doing something well. With poetic precision, Favour casts light on the importance of vision, identity, and intentional growth.

“The Voice That Spoke” is part of his growing body of work known as Wisdom in Poetry—a genre where truth meets verse, and insight flows through rhythm.
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