The sirens of ambulances carrying bombing victims lulled children to sleep. Mothers, many of whom were widows, were torn between mourning or thanking the deceased.

I told you exactly what I wanted to say.
Leave it to me to deal with it if you don't like it.

Help given with the expectation of something in return becomes a burden for both the donor and the receiver.

Bees swindle the flower.
Violence robs peace.

It's easy to keep moving when the mind is filled with dreams since dreams have no weight.

I never take a position on anything since the earth is always spinning.

Imagination's offspring.

All hail the eyes!

no strife has occured on account of misunderstanding caused by the feelings conveyed through the eyes.

Still more, Buddha's closed eyes radiate peace, even now.

Once more, all hail the eyes!

Everyone had congregated.
Some performed.
Others were rewarded.

Let my words fill the empty spaces, fill the eyes that perceive light in the darkness, even if they don't shine or inspire.

Who are you still waiting for?
Everybody came and left.
They abandoned you here.

A constellation of stars wilted under your lone gaze.

Our love was doomed to fail because your silent mechanical heart could never produce the kind of emotions necessary for love to blossom between us.

Those who leave us for no reason are also born without reason.

In silence, we write. 
Without feedback, words fall flat. 
Poetry is extinct.

The silver bolt etched nature's signature in the cloud by streaking a random course through it.

When your peaceful glow made them look like ordinary lamps, stars came down and began walking down the streets.

I thus
refute
my existence.

When humanity fail to govern themselves, their ruins will sit on top of them.

I would fain believe that;
I am a two eyed observatory for the ever swelling web of creation.

Writing a poem is not challenging, but writing something you appreciate is challenging.

My heart is overflowing with grief since the dark clouds that arrived from your heart have poured torrents of sorrow into my heart.

Keep a glimmer of hope for tomorrow's snowfall.

While I wait for your smile to blossom into a flower so I can pluck it from your face and place it on mine, it has remained a bud.

My brief friendship with you is akin to cooking my favorite dish; the flavor lingers long after it has been cooked.

The universe became a diamond speckled ocean of light when the sky turned into glass.

Let not the praise of others sway your pure heart's might

Lest your sleep suffers a snag at midnight.

When thoughts invade your mind like ghouls on a dark night, how can you trust it?

Belief is wealth.

Your heart, though weak,
beats regularly arrythimacallly,
Not out of love for me,
but out of fear of its death.

A pet dog, abandoned
in a desolate place,
searches for its
heartless owner.

A thousand hugs are worth a single glance from you.
A thousand prayers are worth a single word from you.

You came into my life as a cool breeze, but quickly turned into a headwind, halting my progress. I've now turned into a tailwind for you.

My finest hour was when you called me to wish me on my birthday that I didn't mind celebrating.

That one word you spoke in front of people I care about still stings.

An honour received after pleading is equivalent to slander received without pleading.

The times we are in right now seem to be unusual in certain ways.
You seem to always feel as though something you really needed in life has been lost forever, no matter what you have in life.

The emptiness that we don't feel.

Every human is just a pile of memories of broken love, shattered dreams, unattained desires, ego, missed opportunities......

The time since taking in the breath of life has passed considerably.

To keep ourselves afloat in the abyss of dead experiences has been a difficult battle.

It's time to inject some life and jolts of action into our flagging spirits.

Shall we plunge into a brew of furious spirits that are waiting to devour us?

Time melts pain

A big exhalation.
Time turned on.
Life awoke.

The shattered walls of that desolate and desecrated city wept, silent witnesses to the ****** of countless innocent children and adults in the war.

Last benchers are more likely to become poets, because they dream big about their future while the present is surreptitously slipping away from them!

You stole my heart when I was in a daze.
Don't return it;  let it die in your tender arms.
Allow my soul to dwell in realms beyond reality.