#soulpoetry
When I look into her eyes, I do not see eyes
-I see a silent ocean teaching the moon how to shine.
Two deep wells where the night comes to drink,
And my wandering soul forgets its own name.
There is a garden growing inside that gaze,
Petals made of light, roots made of secrets.
Time sits down there like a tired traveler,
And even pain forgets the road back home.
Her eyes are not windows;
They are doors left half-open by the divine.
I step in, and suddenly
I am no longer a man,
But a drop returning to its sea.
Something in them calls me
The way the sky calls the birds at dusk,
The way silence calls the prayer.
No words, no promises -
Just a pull older than memory.
In that dark, shining depth,
My storms grow quiet,
My questions lose their hunger,
And I begin to understand
That love is not something I found there…
It is something that was waiting
To find me.
So I keep returning to that sacred place,
Not to look,But to dissolve!!!
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 9:02 AM UTC
If you wish to be your own king,
To your own truth, tightly cling.
Their road is night, yours is dawn—
Go your way; let your soul sing.
🌿 Bayatı — a traditional Turkic poetic form 🌿
South Azerbaijani Turkic original:
İstirsən olasan paşa,
İstədiyin kimi yaşa.
Öz yolunu get; özgədə
Ayağın ilişər daşa!
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 4:20 AM UTC
Now that I have clarity,
lucidity—
I see it was impossible
for us to continue together.
It’s a fact,
undeniable.
Your world is too small for me.
I am expansive,
vast,
I fill rooms
and lives.
In your world,
the same stories repeat,
the same people
with the same problems.
And there is nothing wrong
with living that life.
But my soul
asks for something else.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 7:29 AM UTC
It started with a girl—
Differently wired,
Her hands, her heart
Moved to rhythm the world didn't always catch.
As I watched her,
she loved,
and smiled
Simply as she was.
At first sight,
I am unable to comprehend—
Though uneasy,
Grateful still for life.
As I watch,
I traced her face with my eyes
Studied her closely.
I asked myself
about the questions
she asks herself.
I wonder—
If she says,
“Why can't I just be normal?”
If she whispers,
“I wish I could stand, I wish I could speak”
“Why must must I be differently-abled?"
I wonder if she questions her existence,
Measures her worth
Against the ordinary,
Against the ease
With which the world moves
Then I wonder—
What truly is normality.
It is jarring
that I, too, ask the same question.
And I weigh my own fate,
Against the ease of others,
and ask the same
“whys” or “what ifs.”
So if she is told she is less,
and if she asked to be normal,
Why should the so-ordinary
question the same fate
when our destinies
are completely different?
And I wonder—
Have we mistaken being normal,
or do we all carry the same question
even with our different fates?
Which is it?
Are we to be grateful either way,
or does one have the right to ask
while the other must be silenced?
They say those altered in form have it worse
than the ones who seem whole,
but I see her echo differently—
And in that echo,
She is whole.
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 6:17 AM UTC
Sometimes,
you need to sing
to yourself—
just to remember
you are still heard.
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:16 PM UTC
The soul says:
I don’t want to carry
this pain alone anymore.
I want to translate it.
And so poetry
becomes a bridge of healing—
what once was pain
becomes self-expression.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC
They are not
the only people in the world.
They are just a chapter
in my story—
maybe not even that.
Perhaps only a paragraph.
Because I am a book
with a million pages,
and I still have
so many stories
left to tell.
Oct 13, 2025
Oct 13, 2025 at 11:16 AM UTC
They say peace
looks like white—
like the wings
of a dove.
But to me,
peace feels blue.
Indigo blue.
Sky blue.
The soft blue
of a baby’s room,
with laughter
that warms the heart.
Oct 13, 2025
Oct 13, 2025 at 11:15 AM UTC
I cannot be afraid to feel.
Sometimes emotions strike me
like a runaway train.
Once,
they mapped my past lives
and told me my mission here
was to turn intensity
into spiritual wisdom.
So I cannot fear anger,
or shame,
or pain.
Because in my hands,
all of it
becomes poetry.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 8:52 AM UTC
It feels like delayed grief,
these tears that beg to fall now.
They blocked you,
cut you off
from knowing their lives.
But if we’re being honest—
you erased them first.
So don’t suffer for this.
You were never that important to them.
If you had been,
things would never have ended this way.
They don’t belong to you anymore.
You live another life now.
They’re still stuck with the same problems,
the same conversations,
the same songs.
And you—
you are more awake,
more lucid,
more whole than before.
So let the ache in your chest,
the sting in your eyes,
the lump in your throat—
come and go.
You are not there anymore.
You are here.
You are the sky, not the clouds.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 8:53 AM UTC
You had your chance
to tell your side of the story.
They listened.
They understood.
They saw how, unknowingly,
they were pulled into a web of manipulation—
spun by him, the true betrayer.
And yet,
after everything,
the one still standing is him.
The one smiling freely is him.
The one allowed to shine—
is him.
There isn’t much you can do, my love.
Keep healing.
Keep being that seed.
Water yourself each day.
Bathe in the sunlight.
When you finally bloom,
they will regret
not standing beside you.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 8:53 AM UTC
May I splinter away from myself
break into whole units
and
live in each with perfection!
This ME
made whole by
combining countless fragments
could not live in any one part
with complete ease.
May I show a true model
of deconstruction to Derrida
by taking off parts that make up my being!
So that I would see
one man fallen off me
shambling down the street,
and continue to speak in assemblies
with full ignorance of the subject,
continue to review the news of the world
by stuffing them in his brain
and go yapping in the crowds
fully content in the perfection of
his inferior sphere.
The other one
brooding over the ledger books
and the personal files
of the employees.
May the next one always keep reading,
the other looking after children
and still another swimming
in love all his life.
May the other fragment – the ‘me’ whom I don’t like
remain shut somewhere in the room.
May one other splinter engage
in inner decoration of the house
and meet the hunger of needs.
If he cannot do so
may he fragment himself further
into contractors
supplying vegetables, miscellanies,
clothes, and fuels
and sorting out other mess.
May one other part
forgetting that he is my splinter
continue to clap on each stupid action
of his boss, shaking head, and
remain busy in his little puppet moves.
May the other take responsibility of
television, radio and newspapers.
May the other still stay repeating the news of
the relatives and acquaintances
fulfilling formalities of well-being
embroiling in the phatic-
where? what? how?
participating in all of ‘sixteen rituals’
and birthdays.
May the other one continue to repeat
the non-news of his immobility
and continue to go to places
where people gather,
and go doing something like that.
May I hold an assembly
of the proportional representation
of all my selves.
may I go out with the poet
by leaving all the others
in their chaotic meaningless arguments.
May my poet remain a poet
in its perfection
unattached to my domesticity
full of scarcities;
may he remain separate
from a job-savvy me
who has sold his self-respect.
may my poet disengage itself
from my being
swayed by my brain.
May I discard the outer cover of time
from the layers of poetry
by immersing the poet in its entirety
within me, and
dismantle geography’s barriers.
may I break the windows of consciousness,
break further the dilapidations of waking moments
and emerge into the bright world of dream.
May life remain enamored of its own charm
may the river of love always flow from its own lap
may my pain remain drunk singing its own love songs
and the dead body of agony remain asleep
resting its head on a pillow of flowers.
May I free myself from the labyrinth of knowledge
run away from the jungle of thoughts
and jump from the hill of illusion
into the mind’s speedy currents.
by stepping on this joint of time.
may I pack all inventions in burlaps
and hide them in corners of Einstein’s’ brains.
May I free myself from the ever-pressing chest
and enter the garden of imagination
by leisurely hiding brain on hill summits.
May I take off clothes covering shame at the border
leaving them hanging on dry trees of arrogance
and run by wearing the rays of the sun.
May I create plain fields by collecting clouds
and bedeck them with arching rainbows.
Playing ball of wind
reaching the other end of The Road Not Taken
may I call in Robert Frost by holding hands
and request Ginsberg to recite Howl
facing the world.
May I bet with Devkota sitting contentedly
by receiving his lord’s blessings
that you are a poet who has written epics
and win a bagful of stars.
May I exchange T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland
with the future of this earth like a lunatic’s dreams
and make one season of poetry farming
by tilling with the pen of desire.
Oh, this ME
made with so many fragments
could not make any achievements!
May I then splinter away
from myself
and live only with the poet.
०००००
Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 10:33 PM UTC
you’re a spectacular
spectator. your eyes are my
gold.
attention is what I seek,
resounding the call of humanity,
of all sentience,
of the heart you read this with.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 5:13 PM UTC
Here we sit at the table,
of our life,
of our home.
It is just you and me,
to say what we feel,
to grow.
I want you to listen,
to my words,
without judgment.
I want you to see my struggles,
without opinions,
without trying to fix them.
I want you to see my struggles,
motivating me,
without pushing me to resolve them.
I wish for you to trust me,
without burdening me,
without demands.
I wish for you to help me,
without deciding for me.
I wish for you to care for me,
to protect me,
without erasing me.
I wish for you to look at me,
without projections,
without fear.
I wish for you to love me,
without suffocating me,
without binding me.
I want you to protect me,
without lies,
but with a true heart.
I want you to hold me,
not out of possession,
not by taking responsibility for me.
I wish for you to walk beside me,
without invading,
without controlling.
I wish for you to accept me,
every dark part of me,
without trying to change it.
I want us to see our struggles,
with empathy,
with solidarity.
I want that after every battle,
there is no resentment,
but peace reigns instead.
I wish for you to tell me everything you feel,
even the things that trouble you.
I want you to know,
that everything I ask of you,
I can give in return.
I wish for you to know,
that you can always count on me.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 2:38 PM UTC
I brought back a string of pearls
from the cemetery of vows.
It camouflaged a black dot;
size of the berry seeds.
I felt like a magnet to its deceiving hue.
As I move it over my wrist,
the dot sticks to my transparent veins.
Streams of blood absorbed the maleficent mellow,
furnishing me to be the new home.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 3:03 AM UTC
I saw a grey love.
As rotten as a deserted carcass.
The hidden motive.
The rage of hunger.
Grey garnished it all.
I hesitated,
Took a step back.
The mossy green heart sparkled.
Nauseating me with the dark.
I had to rescue the promises.
Its yellow body.
Its broken limbs.
As I slithered into the grey,
It settled on me.
I smelled of blazing bricks,
waiting for the Fall.
The yellow evaporated;
steam settled on my unshielded eyes.
I didn’t hesitate.
It tingled.
It left.
And here I am growing with the mossy green heart.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 2:49 AM UTC
Drowning in the pool of judgement syndrome
The cold water soothes my festering burn
Tangled between hours like a ****** palindrome
Air escapes my lungs like the westering sun
So pull me against the gravity if you can
These legs refuse to wake from their sleep
face my tales of depravity a man
Who begs for the ache but runs from the weeps
The fading warmth welcomes this surging numbness
Eyelids now decide to double their weights
Intelligent ones breeding an incessant dumb race
Thy deeds do not outweigh their widening plates
Is it strange that i like my wounds fresh?
Sort of like a hangover that never ends
I hide my intentions behind this skin dress
Reveal one day I must, infliction my only mend
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 1:55 PM UTC
The sky cries again in agony
Flashing the lights to conceal its pain
Hammered against the innocent dirt
Losings its fight to get clean again
Let this body soak up its share
For darkness has a way to repair
These wounds that run deeper than seas
The mind says sorry, the heart says please!
So, let the lights slowly dim out
As pain has reached its maximum charts
Can't help but embrace this inner shout
The needle almost seems like poison darts
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC
how would you feel,
if your soul is blown away,
by the night air, the breeze,
into unknown places,
among unknown people.
while you'd be hoping for it to return,
feeling empty, the void in you so deep
and threatening.
that it penetrates your feelings,
that hand dry with the clothes now.
and you would wait for it come back,
to fly back to you, and make you feel,
yourself again.
but you know that it won't,
because you kept it caged for so long,
in the boundaries of guilt,
that it wants freedom now,
more than ever.
a life for itself,
out of your body, that kept it,
shimmering it's glow, diminishing it's existence,
for so long, it often forgot, it's light had existed.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:36 PM UTC
Fear fed my focus
on the unsettling questions,
suggestions and thoughts
which seemed to run like a film
ever projecting // never ending.
Fear fueled and seared uncertainty
into my heart
and threatened my ability
to beat //
to breathe
correctly
Soon my lungs were collapsing
breath was decreasing
which began to impair
my vision
I then started losing and missing
the pitches of clear sounds
Which now clearly suggested
I was losing my hearing
I could no longer smell
the burning
the thirst and yearning
So tasteless and speechless I
bitterly reached out for something
near me
yet struggled to touch it for the anxiety was consuming
I found myself so
incapacitated with worry and fear
-for what it might unveil
so quickly in a sense,
I had lost all of my
senses which ultimately led me
down paths // peaks // planes // and valleys
These innate abilities were stripped // ripped from my grip
someone please find me //
before I lose everything and find
it all to be permanently
a part of me...
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC