Not with a crash of thunder, nor a blinding flash of light, But with a gentle ember, our love began to ignite. No whirlwind passion, fierce and all-consuming,
By Moharif Yulianto2 years ago in Poets
Your love, a creeping vine, so sweet, so strong, Entwined my soul in its seductive song. It bloomed with promises, a vibrant hue,
The silken threads, they shimmered bright, A web of allure, bathed in golden light. Love's melody, a siren's call, Beckoned me closer, destined to enthrall.
We're getting romantic, a slow, sweet bloom, Not fireworks bursting, but a steady moon. No whirlwind passion, no thunderous roar,
Little Hands, Big Dreams Little hands, so small and new, Hold a pencil, and a dream or two. A future artist, or a writer true,
By Abbas2 years ago in Poets
With spatula in hand, they conduct the pace A maestro of flavors, in a culinary embrace The sizzle and aroma, a symphony so fine
Kindness is a gift, that we can all give A smile, a hug, a listening ear to live It's a language, that's understood by all
The sun, a weary traveler, dips below the west, Yielding its canvas to a master, ever-blessed. Night, the artist, cloaks the world in inky hue,
Serenity's Embrace A tranquil pond, a mirrored stage Reflects the sky, a perfect engage Water lilies float, a gentle sway
Soft whispers in the wind, a gentle farewell sigh A goodbye that's spoken, with tears in the eye A moment's pause, a final glance around
The wind it howls, the wind it moans As it whispers secrets, through the trees it groans It carries scents, of far-off lands
The Ascetic's Crusade In realms of flesh, where shadows weave, A constant battle souls perceive. A serpent slithers, scales agleam,
