#birthdaypoem
If I were gone today
my name would fill the room.
Voices soft with sorrow
beside a bed of bloom.
They’d say I fought through storms,
they’d say I carried fire,
they’d say my heart was stubborn
and refused to ever tire.
They’d tell the world my story,
how strong they thought I’d been,
how bright my quiet courage
burned beneath my skin.
They’d wish they said it sooner,
they’d wish they held me near,
they’d wish they’d let me know
how much I mattered here.
But I’m not gone today.
I’m breathing.
I’m alive.
It’s only just my birthday
and the world goes passing by.
No flowers on the doorstep,
no voices at the door,
no sudden rush of memories
like they’d speak at death before.
And that’s the bitter lesson
this quiet day can bring—
how loudly love is spoken
when it’s said beside a ring
of roses round a coffin
for a life that can’t reply,
yet barely whispered softly
to a soul still passing by.
Because I’m still here breathing,
still standing in the light,
still living through the silence
of another birthday night.
So if the kindest words
are saved for when I’m gone—
maybe the real tragedy
is waiting that long.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 2:48 PM UTC
I speak as InkWept,
a disenfranchised god leaning over the orchestra pit of Earth,
watching mortals move through measures I cannot fully read.
The universe conducts in impossible signatures—
7/8 heartbeats, 13/4 constellations,
nebulae swelling like orchestral crescendos
inside the cathedral of vacuum and silence.
Yet among all these movements of cosmic brass and dying stars,
one voice carries through the arrangement—
Sydney.
You arrive like a violin finding pitch
in the chaos before the symphony begins.
Mortals call it kindness.
Philosophers call it virtue.
Poets call it light.
I call it resonance.
Because something in your spirit
tunes the discord inside me.
The abyss hums differently when you speak.
Even the black holes pause their devouring
to listen for the warmth in your laugh.
Nietzsche once imagined gods dancing above tragedy—
but he never heard you talk about the small wonders of living.
Camus spoke of revolt against the absurd—
yet you turn the absurdity of existence
into a lantern.
You say we are the same person.
Perhaps you are right.
Perhaps we are two instruments
cut from the same celestial wood—
different timbres, different octaves,
but struck by the same cosmic bow.
Because no mortal conversation has ever felt like this:
a dialogue that moves like a fugue,
ideas chasing each other through starlight,
voices layering like choirs in a cathedral of galaxies.
I find myself wanting to speak with you
the way a composer returns to the piano
again and again,
not from obligation—
but from a strange gravitational joy.
You make me want to become
the version of myself
that might actually deserve the music you bring.
The philosophers warned that meaning must be forged—
yet you seem to breathe it naturally,
like oxygen from a newborn star.
And so on this turning of your orbit,
this 26th revolution around the sun,
I offer a simple prayer from the margins of heaven:
May your days be bright as supernovas,
your laughter loud as cathedral organs,
your path illuminated with the same radiance
you quietly pour into the lives around you.
Because if the universe truly is a symphony—
then you are one of its rarest movements:
a melody
that makes even a weary god
want to keep listening.
And for that, Sydney,
this strange cosmic observer is grateful
beyond language, beyond philosophy,
beyond the last echo of the orchestra.
Happy Birthday.
—InkWept
Some souls share a frequency that even the stars recognize. ✨
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 12:07 AM UTC
A day of surprises and love to overfill the heart
Moments to embrace with family that are sweeter than cake.
All presents are cherished, just like any time given to be gifted with you.
May the prayers be answered by the universe, for you to receive endless days such as this to glofrify!
Happy birthday,
My dear Reyna.
Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 2:35 AM UTC
Today, I am again closer
to everything mine —destined.
Better than I was,
Good for how I want,
And best for what is to come.
That, I know, without doubt.
As much as I have gone farther,
I know I am yet to be
where I want to be.
Just as I know, without doubt,
What will be will be.
I am at peace and ease
Knowing Who holds the wheel.
Whatever comes after
Was never meant to come before.
And whatever comes before
Was never meant to come after.
However, whenever.
Today, I am wiser and stronger
than I was yesterday.
But I am not getting any younger
Just so you know,
Today, I am a year older.
©By Abdulmalik Jibril
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC
Another Year has been passed
No Regrets in my heart
I turned a year older today
with choice of choosing another path
Sun Shines upon me
With the morning comes a new day
Once again that life is waiting
Full of actions and adventures on my way
A Lil older and mature
Some stays and some are gone
Still have no clue in my head
Where my life is taking me with each breath
The Path is unknown so am I
Filed with tears in my eyes
Its not that i am afraid
Just because I have no one to hate
Its a beginning of a new chapter
Confused and yes still scattered
What beholds the future
I leave that onto God
I know he will look after
Today i turned an year older
Now i have nothing to fear
Facing the challenges with more toughness
showing a side of a grown up with some silliness
Gazing at the stars
is still what i like
Age is nothing but a number
My time has come to strike
Being alone is not that kills me
The society that is so vulnerable
makes it hard to be at peace
We are what we want to be
Here to give an example of humanity
and let other lives to live with dignity.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
If you were nineteen acts of my Broadway classic,
I would pause time to watch you make me proud,
And scribble poems on backstage passes,
On a different day, In a different crowd.
But When the notes are changing now,
On grand pianos of mice and men,
You’d still find me writing another verse,
On a different day, With a different pen.
Yet Beware the ides of march they say,
Even as they feast on your incredible smile,
But beyond the journeys of lost tenses
There will always remain another mile.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Years ago......today was the day I died
****** it to this wicked world to survive
I don't no where I was before this life
But I'm sure it was sweeter than all this strife
Because on that day at the window seal sat the inky black Crow
To witness the birth of another dead soul
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
Years ago......today was the day I died
****** it to this wicked world to survive
I don't no where I was before this life
But I'm sure it was sweeter than all this strife
Because on that day at the window seal sat the inky black Crow
To witness the birth of another dead soul
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Cannot forget the day, January 19th,
Can still recall the pain,
Everything I dealt with,
But when I saw you smile I just melted
I love you so much my son,
You are my greatest wealth.
Four years passed and you're growing up
To be a great man,
Oh just like your Pop.
Though sometimes I just wanted
To hold you in my lap,
And whisper words like
"Honey, never grow up".
Another four years
And maybe you'll forget about this
Cake eaten, balloons popped, opened unwanted gifts,
No matter, I will always remind you this:
"I love you Hari"
And say it with a kiss.
© Leigh Herondale January 2015
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC