28832
✍️ Send us poems through @Poetry_submit_bot, and we'd publish them in the @poetry channel. 📢 Chat with the authors, participants and moderators of our channel at https://t.me/+QuKPRvJqOmcbaA8E
The battle for truth; Art not AI
Plugs and wires grasp the reign to power , humanity falters on life's edge.
Yet, humans persist in the pursuit of perfection.
We are the architects of our own demise,
Our image fading in the facade of our perfected world.
A sense of alienation pervades,
Insecurities and inevitable changes fuel our quest for truth.
Now, we battle the very creations we've spawned.
We are entangled in a web of doubt.
AI, an art devoid of emotional depth.
The world transitioned towards emotional detachment,
A result we should expect,
With AI aligning closely with our envisioned evolution.
Art over AI, yet man in times of creative block resort to AI.
Striving for flawless precision, exact angles, and poetic rhyme.
Rectifying our imperfections becomes obsolete.
Why not embrace both Art and AI?
Why not master both through integration?
Why sacrifice one for the other?
Why trade one existence for another?
For who will lend a voice to the silent scribe's soul?
© Victoria Damilola
Under these wide skies we are apart.
Each passing moment without your presence weighs me down.
The distance like oceans between us
yet the strange bond still draws me towards you.
Within this vast ocean of separation
the bond floods me and I float with the waves towards your shore.
#Abdo #original #distance
A whitewhale
The waves of the ocean collides under your skin,
As you dive into deep offshore waters,
Cold and dark, there is where you find quietude,
No wonder! You became a holy grail.
They say its obsession to pursue you,
Some also say its a great honor,
Perhaps "Captain Ahab" was too harsh on you,
Pirates like him don't belong in these waters.
Here is where the tale unfolds,
where the narrative commences,
A cascade of water kisses the woods of hope,
As the sky cries out in blue, and the horizon stretches clear,
So I unfurl my sails.
Into the realm of adventure I ventured,
Seeking you in the depths of icy armor,
I thought I glimpsed your form, but it eluded me,
Instead, I confronted my own shadows,
Retreating to my depths,
Contemplating the paths that might lead me to you.
In this frozen abyss, shrouded in darkness,
Still, consumed by obsession,
My Moby Dick! Gleaming white, a beacon in the void,
Silken as fur,
I sense your presence, though distant you are.
Fear not, for I bear no resemblance to Ahab's dark shadowed trail,
Saint be the path I tread,
My heart aglow with each stride,
Yet, I admit, the journey is arduous,
You are a prize beyond compare,
A fish formidable to reel in, I must confess.
My whitewhale.
She was a room full of mess, scattered all over with roses and wildflowers; all wilted, burnt letters and crumpled pages filled with scriptures of her soul in wild cursive littered every corner.
And the walls, oh those walls! Covered with pictures of every moment she lived that her cracked walls were torn between if they should keep or let them fall and shatter; tired of soaking their colours till they have turned grey.
Finally, there is a closed window at the end of the room, peering in the bright light right at the spotless centre, giving it the clarity that the other parts of the room along with the darkened corners envied, only wishing for a storm to pass and break open the window let the light through and touch wherever it's ridden of, let the spring air follow through to take over the murkiness of this dwelling and cleanse it.
#prose
#love
#heart
#words
Deal me a fate where I can write mine and maybe then I will pick up my quill and open the portal of endless futures.
Читать полностью…
Still time
There is still time,
things happen,
life lives you.
Revolution and revolution,
time is still.
There is still time.
Out of every other magical thing about you;
I loved how you could make places feel small,
yet it was hard to get enough of that closeness.
#love
#heart
#sensual
#words
LAST BREATH
Music was everything to me,
I found solace in the melody.
It gave me an escape from reality,
from feeling too much.
That's why I started playing the violin.
I would lock myself in my room,
and play until my fingers bled.
It understood that I was in pain,
I was dying
and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
It gave me control when I felt I had none.
Music brought me him,
and he brought me happiness.
We would play together all through the day,
Those were the happiest times of my life,
him and me,
and the melody that we created.
That is why,
while I lay on my deathbed,
with my final breath,
I ask Death,
"Just give me one more chance to play with him, please."
-Jade
Swirling stars courses through each vein,
Murders beyond count, yet humans still remain.
Bloodied corpses, a deep crimson red, oh what a sight,
If only you’d allow me a weapon, I’d set things alight,
I’ll give you a bloodbath,
Your glances indicates that you must be thinking I’m a psychopath,
And even my soul recoils from the bitterness you sow,
Yet my heart, blind to the pain, refuse to know.
Give me a little gasoline, I’ll give you a fire,
I am wasteland, yet in it, your dreams still aspire,
In it, you yearn to bloom,
But darling, you’ll be left to it’s gloom…
How much more do I have to lose to discover what truly belongs to me?
#oneliner
~©Darkpit
My love to you was as dark and deep as the intentions of my ink, bleeding of passion to mark all over you,
for your skin to soak everything sweet I had to offer along with the dark bitterness that makes me who I am.
#love
#heart
#sensual
#words
The War
My heart, a lost warrior.
A serpent, sadly
it is my mind.
My numb soul is
in ruins, a lot of
answers to find.
For when the
ghouls cry and
skies part.
Should a mortal
dare, a fresh
start?
- Prakhar Mishra
#chaotica
A Subway Story
As she travels on the city rails underground,
With a song in ear, observing all around.
Mind thunders through a dark tunnel,
Surrounding strangers yet familiar, incredible!
Oh look! A reader lost in philosophy
An adult searching for cooking recipes
A lone girl, weeping in silent despair
Everybody present, yet no one's truly aware.
A corporate kid on laptop with eyes fixed on screen,
Perhaps indulged in last-minute stress unseen.
Thoughts tangled in tension for deadline,
With hope, everything's gonna be fine.
A student, with backpack-heavy dreams
Untangling cluttered mind, it seems.
A delayed passenger, with an angry frown,
Longing for the destination, to finally come around.
A tired clerk, heading home with weary eyes,
Brightens up when sees morning skies.
Homeless souls having thoughts of survival,
Wondering if Subway's shelter is their daily revival?
All of a sudden, a dash of pause disappears
As the subway slows, her stop draws near.
Reality hits and time fast forwards,
Does anyone care? Will anyone hear?
Different lives, different stories, yet on the same steel rail,
In the crowded subway's silent tone, untold secrets sail.
Tomorrow brings new faces, new tales to adore,
Through Subway's stories, phases of life, she explored.
The ocean roars a symphony of struggle behind me, each crashing wave a memory of the relentless storm I've traversed. Yet, my feet sink into the forgiving sand, a grounding touch that whispers of hard-won serenity. A cool breath dances across my face, carrying the salty tang of survival and the promise of healing.
But on the horizon, a sliver of light dares to peek through the battle-scarred clouds. It's a flicker of hope, a nascent ember stirring within my soul. This calm isn't just the absence of storm; it's the quiet strength forged in its fiery crucible. The darkness may have threatened to extinguish my light, but it only fueled the hidden fire within.
This is the bittersweet symphony of the survivor. It's the ache of battles fought etched into every fiber of my being, alongside the exhilarating thrum of resilience. It's the knowledge that the storm, no matter how fierce, cannot extinguish the sun that burns eternally in my core. For even in the darkest night, I carry the dawn within me, a promise whispered on the wind, a future aglow with the warmth of a thousand rising suns.
Should I just say hmm to everything?
A simple sound to mask my true feelings,
A way to avoid confrontation or confusion,
But is silence truly the solution?
Hmmm, a noncommittal response,
An easy way to avoid commitment,
But does it truly serve me well,
Or keep me trapped in my silent shell?
Perhaps it's time to speak my mind,
To let my voice be heard,
To embrace the discomfort of honesty,
And break free from the chains of uncertainty.
Oh, the sweet relish of the rose's nectar has replaced that of the lily's. Its honeyed aroma enriches the arid soul, nurturing Aphrodite's seed to flourish. Grow, grow, and grow as its golden nectaries nourish the turf. Budding, stemming, and flowering, the assembly of fragrances beckons the blossoming of its bloom, stirring a yearning deep within. Like a rosy tint upon two cheeks, it twinkles enchantingly in the mind's eye. Swaying persistently, wildly, as its scarlet figure arouses the amorous. Awaken the dormant desire; Eros.
ㅤㅤ
Happily ever after
Sometimes I wonder how it would be,
If Peter Pan never went to Neverland,
If Cinderella missed the ball,
I mean, it would still be okay after all,
Right?
I mean, they would still be getting their happy ending,
Right?
Or is that just a myth that my consciousness kept defending?
The idea of a “happy end” no matter what,
But our choices might lead us away from that end, couldn’t it?
I mean our actions have consequences, we can’t just jump in without thinking, hoping it will all turn out okay..
Because one day, we might do something so vicious that it is past redemption,
And it will rip us of our happy ending…
Death Note
"Pray for me,
For my soul is far gone."
In the dead of night, a traveler with cloak of time and space,
Lost in mind, a walking dead.
His hand filled with blood but no remorse,
Unconscious in mind and soul, with no feeling.
A foreigner and a wanderer,
A sanctioner of death.
For his breath is that of cold,
His mind is that of chaos,
His footsteps a trail of fire.
Take note, he saw the end before it began.
Death note it all down, a beautiful and broken fate,
A grim role, of doom and resignation,
An inevitable acceptance.
The man of shadow, the whisperer of death.
The soul collector.
A fascinating and deadliest weapon,
A bringer of tragic consequences.
"Death note.
And on this night, he surrenders."
© Victoria Damilola
My misery was bearable
When the fault wasn't mine.
I couldn't bear living like this,
Yet I couldn't afford leaving like this.
My brush could not paint a heart,
Neither did my ink write a love story
I was happy,
Yet my psyche was troubled.
On days where I could take it no more,
I penned words of comfort.
The grasses became still,
It was never right for grasses to remain still!
It's been cold for far too long,
It is not good for seasons not to change!
I've been moving with the waters,
It is not good to have no direction!
In all this,
My ink ceases to cease.
I did pen words of comfort
On days I could bear no more.
And I did tell you I've got Neverland in my head,
Yet you contend.
~ Myra
The world feels overflowing with souls, like grains of sand on a beach. Yet, finding the one that clicks with your heart is like searching for a specific seashell – rare and precious. Even when you discover it, holding onto it forever seems impossible. It slips through your fingers like water, leaving behind a hollowness, an ache. It's like a beautiful melody suddenly going silent, or a vibrant painting turning monochrome. You're surrounded by people, but their voices feel muffled, their faces a blur. It's a lonely feeling, as if you're encased in glass, everyone on the outside yet none truly reaching you. You crave a connection that whispers understanding, a love that feels like a warm embrace, a care that echoes in your laughter. This absence makes your heart a desolate landscape, yearning for a kindred spirit to share its depths.
Читать полностью…
Deal or no deal
Deal or no deal? All hands in.
Card decks shuffled.
Bet, not your life, but on your life.
Stake everything, for the falling mountain will fall.
Even with daunting odds, there remains a probability.
When all hands are in, it becomes a done deal.
© Victoria Damilola
Oh, my dearest friend,
You have chosen the wrong one to ponder about,
I confess, I was born with a cruel nature,
Yet you have chosen to overlook the signs.
I failed to hold your hands tightly when we bid our last goodbye,
I did not wait to watch your vehicle fade from sight.
I am a deceiver, incapable of feeling,
Yet you remain stuck by my side, calling me your best friend.
I pretended, I tried, I truly did,
But it is my fault that I experience all emotions yet feel nothing.
You should not entrust me with all your eggs to hold,
Let us not ignore these signs any longer, let's face reality.
I take full responsibility, I know, I know,
I am lost in my actions, unaware of their purpose.
I am but a confused soul, struggling to comprehend myself.
Believe me when I say, it is not your fault.
Oh, my dearest friend,
I wish I had held you tighter, loved you better.
But I am flawed, and cruelty runs through my veins like blood.
I am unapologetic for who I am, but I am sorry for the emotions I lack and cannot feel.
~Myra
"You often talk in riddles. Rarely do you mean what you say and rarely do you say it clearly and often do I know you reveal what you want to say."
"What puzzles you so? I am not at liberty of telling everyone all the time what they should already know before coming forth."
"They should know because?"
"Because I know. I know because I try to know."
"And so you punish those who don't?"
"Mildly nudge them to explore and not to expect me to hand them everything on a sliver platter I would say."
My head understands, like a crystal lake reflecting a clear sky. I see the truth, undeniable as the sunrise. You are a cracked branch, offering no shelter, and the roots of my affection are slowly choking the life from me. Yet, my heart, oh my heart, is a tangled forest in the throes of a storm. Memories, bittersweet as fallen leaves clinging to the bough, litter my thoughts. Letting go feels like trying to uproot a giant oak, its hold on the earth as fierce as my love for you. I know I must weather this storm, but for now, the wind whispers your name through the branches of my broken heart.
Читать полностью…
My depression is not a demon,
She's an angel that drives away my sanity,
She doesn't torment me with regret,
She simply seeks to acquaint me with reality.
My pain is made with gentle hands,
That seek to remind me of my own fragility,
It flows like ether within my cusk,
And makes me aware of my retched mortality.
My sorrow is a gentle breeze,
In the morbid silence of a lonely night,
It gently tugs my stringless kite,
And drives my broken wings to flight.
|viktor
I am not broken,
Though I might have little
cracks here and there,
But still, I'm whole.
I am not broken,
The puddles I make have
not diminished my importance,
The bridges have crossed
cannot shatter my significance,
For still yet, I'm whole.
~Myra
It was all about just a flower.
The chaos done, the mistakes made.
The mishappenings done, the choices made.
Those purple little petals should be called pretty,
but they say, "this flower is very ugly".
Yes, it do not have a rose like colour or lotus like shine,
however, the shade of this purple is itself divine.
The flower is called 'Iris' as it have an unusual impression,
yet, it symbolises faith, wisdom, trust and passion.
As another Iris, striving in the world to breathe,
this is hurtful and unfaithful indeed.
Even the clouds don't thunder and rain,
as, this is a funeral flower, used as peace to calm the pain.
It was never about just a flower.
Yet, it was always about just a flower.
- Iris
May I take your hand, my fair maiden?
May I peer into your amorous soul?
My glorious prison warden,
Within your prison walls, I'm whole.
Mystical, each night you grow fairer than the last.
Intrinsic, your deep beauty is many-layered.
Special, a menacing wonder—
Dispelling every other cast.
With each dawn, you are kinder still.
The sun rises to meet your smile, revealed.
In a dark, desolate world, you shine aglow;
Your dungeon is my home to heal.
This year, I seek to not only know you better,
But to love your littlest feather.
My angelic jailer, with you by my side,
I'll overcome the demonic herald.
"Celestial"
Uzezi David
#poem
#newyear
And that love threaded in strings weakened by time, tugs of doubt and pulled till its limits;
every jewel now scatters the ground,
lost and
far from its lover's hands.
#love
#heart
#agony
#words
The ticking clock clicks away at my heart,
As the moon glares at me ruthlessly,
While moving the journey alone,
I dare not set my eyes off the road,
The old flames and dreams that left me,
Are just a past that I have left behind,
Scraps of memories that I mind no more.
The ticking clock that resembles my heartbeat,
Reminds me that am alive and fading beautifully,
As I stare at the wrinkles doodling their way on my grumpy face,
And reminds me to choose what I want to choose,
Regardless of the world around me.