Suddenly I remembered that laugh, it told a different story, our story.

The sonnet, a lyrical poem, the beauty and magic… convey with our hearts the truth of the universe in a single moment briefly.

Yes You Are!Like the Blossoming rose,Like the Rays of hope.Like a deer in the forest,Like an athlete full of zest.Like a lamp in temple,Like the life feeling ample.Like the feel of the dawn,Like the grace...

Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

[L]ife is a phenomenon in need of criticism, for we are, as fallen creatures, in permanent danger of worshipping false gods, of failing to understand ourselves and misinterpreting the behaviour of others, of growing unproductively...

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

Sublime wonders lie in store,I am shown a regal residence;a mighty kingdom, an empirewith more grandeur than before …

There is never a time or place for love. It happens accidentally. Oops!

I hide myself behind, a cloud of smoke; the smoke screen varies, dependent on the variable. The variable consists of: stress, anguish, boredom, madness, anger, depression, apathy, negativity, sex, violence & a little chunk of...

In fiction, the characters have their own lives. They may start as a gloss on the author’s life, but they move on from there. In poetry, especially confessional poetry but in other poetry as well,...

If lighthouse becomes a burning candle, flickered upon ocean’s insanity.Your sailing heart there anchors to handle the obsessed breeze towards sand dune’s vanity.

I build boxesand place them at your feet,to measure the distance between dreams and reality.

Words mean nothingActions are everythingExpect nothingAppreciate everything

Appreciate the moment of a first kiss; it may be the last time you own your heart.

The truth is I didn’t need therapy; I just needed to feel loved and know that someone out there craved my attention.

When one does not die for the other, then we are already dead_

Too lazy to be ambitious,I let the world take care of itself.Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag;a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?Listening to the night rain on...

Once in a while i am struckall over again… by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.

when the glory night envelop the moon that would light up the exhilaration of heart..the sun was reluctant to reveal smile to warm the earth..when the fire burn until the wood becomes charcoal yield and...

The WeaverMy life is but a weavingbetween my Lord and me;I cannot choose the colorsHe worketh steadily.Oft times He weaveth sorrowAnd I, in foolish pride,Forget He sees the upper,And I the underside.Not til the loom...

He will understand when it is too late that it is easier to love.

I froze before the keyboard. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. No poems, no prose, no words. The pain cannot even be alchemized into art, into words, into something you can chalk...

There is nothing to save, now all is lost,but a tiny core of stillness in the heartlike the eye of a violet.

The streets are silent / The playgrounds are still /The noise has moved elsewhere / Into our homes / Into our hearts / It’s been too long /Children are not where they belong /The streets,...

I love the way he says my name. With the elegance and utmost respect of a King, just before he bows to his Queen.

Learning to See” I’m always teaching myself to see beauty in all aspects of reality, yearning to learn the beauty in others, from their vision of everyday life to their deepest secrets of their dreams....

the poem doesn’t have stanzas, it has a body, the poem doesn’t have lines,/ it has blood, the poem is not written with letters, it’s written/ with grains of sand and kisses, petals and moments,...

If the poets offered us nothing more than another make-believe world, they would be mere sellers of drugs or, at best, sweetmeats.

She had the power to change the world but she couldn’t save the one she loved.

Chúng ta đã nhiều lần chết đi dù vẫn đang tồn tại giữa bao ngườikhi nhìn thấy nhau nhưng không cách nào bước tớikhi lướt qua nhau và nghe rõ nhịp tim của người kia...

Aku harus pergi. Aku tak bisa terus-terusan berdiri disini. Hatiku sesak, pengap. Yang aku tahu aku harus pergi.

Like a speeding trainI am passing by…I don’t knowwhere I’m headingwith whom or whyall I know is thatI will never, everpass from here againall I know is I’m skidding forwardon this track of life.

she’s gotoceanstucked awayin her hairpoems swimunder her skin.

Turning and turning in the widening gyreThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhereThe ceremony of innocence is drowned;The...

In an age when nations and individuals routinely exchange murder for murder, when the healing grace of authentic spirituality is usurped by the divisive politics of religious organizations, and when broken hearts bleed pain in...

SELFBENEATH THE SURFACE,VEILED ON PURPOSE,ALL KNOWING AND GRAND,DIRECTED, GUIDED, BY THE ETERNAL HAND,SUSTAINED, FULFILLED, FULL OF LIGHT,REALIZATION ACHIEVED, BY WILLFUL MIGHT.

With me: one minus one = one; with you: it’s zero. Here lies the only difference.

Great writers experience their dreams. They put them on paper, where others can read about them.

All the drawing lacksis the final touch: To addeyes to the dragon

Evening by eveningAmong the Brookside rushes,Laura bow’d her head to hear,Lizzie veil’d her blushes:Crouching close togetherIn the cooling weather,With clasping arms and cautioning lips,With tingling cheeks and fingertips.”lie close,” Laura said,Pricking up her golden head:”We...

Praėjusią savaitę ponia Modžeri paskolino man knygą. Ji vadinasi “Oksfordo šiuolaikinės poezijos antologija, 1892-1935”. Jie leido tokiam žmogui, pavarde Jytsas, atrinkti eilėraščius. Geriau jau būtų to nedarę. Kas jis toks – ir ką jis išmano...

When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around...

Oh, there are no living poets, Miss Van Damn. We’re not entirely sure there ever were. They’ve found some shreds of sonnets in England and, embedded in a chalk wall of a cave in France,...

She was broken, I think it’s because she loved too much and she was always blind to the fact that love too is sometimes broken.

I wrote her story because she wanted to live forever and I loved her far more with every word, too much! Even in death her life sought out beauty, for her moments were consumed with...

kau mata, aku airmatamu…

God would seem to indicate to us and not allow us to doubt that these beautiful poems are not human, or the work of man, but divine and the work of God; and that the...

savorwith methe lushnessof a lingering sleep…and last night’sdream.

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

I love you in my very own way.Like a stone loves the mosses around itLike a sea loves the pebbles in itLike a coincidence…Taking you as the way you are,With all the bruises, scars and...