I walk alone on the path of love , To inspire the hearts of dove The word which is broken is called peace, And now I find its only a piece A piece which may bring back harmony, which was
Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
Subscribe to our poetry newsletters to get regular updates on new poetry published everyday!
In touch with my inner feelings, The emotions of loving and being loved, Spanning from admiration to adulation, Reflecting all diversity of love, With a silent glance, Eyes speaking volumes. A gentle whispering kiss, I flap my wings to soar,
Wrapping arms around myself, I sit down mutely, Numbed by a pain, Spreading through me. A gnawing pain radiates, With a sting of words, Hurled thoughtlessly, Locking me in a maze. Words that cut through, Causing a throbbing pain so
Innocence of those eyes Innocence of those eyes, will never disguise , their dreams will fill their blood, with joyous thoughts, and gifts that love has brought innocence of a child is a blessing, which makes him see the beauty
I am not a singer But yet I sang… ….modulating my tones… The trees heard, The flowers danced The bees kicked and rocked… The birds orchestrated for me The melody of love I sang just for her…. …but she did
When Mum first presented you I thought you were a trick. Your attempts to buy me off with a Metallica C.D. demonstrated your pettiness. I didn’t say anything at the time ‘cos I didn’t want to hurt her feelings in
I am not loquacious as you think Nor do I descend from a family of Well known speakers To keep you happy I talk, talk and talk And I stop it.. And one day, you ask me What’s wrong darling?
I wonder what’s it to be like a poet For I am called one… Is it to connect reality with Tough words that prompts reader Look up the dictionary? A one which has a rhyme scheme? A one which is
(A Tribute to and in Memory of Mr. Lee Kuan Yew 1923 – 2015 First Prime Minister of the Republic of Singapore 1965 – 1990) I will not weep for you, Foster Father Lee Kuan Yew! For all fathers must
The flags tremble in the cold wind at half mast Standing sombrely at the edge of the central plaza Printed against deep, heavy grey skies The whole nation heaves a long, devastated sigh Today, we have lost our Father The
Sit next to me Pawpaw A small voice commands. Read to me Pawpaw. Read it again Pawpaw, A small voice commands. Do not skip a word. Chase me Pawpaw, A small voice commands. Lord, I’m tired. Snack time Pawpaw A
On a chill dewy morning When thin fragments of mist Kidnapped the sun….and Its rays struggled to peep into this world …they saw… Our eyes playing hide and seek… By the river side … You peeped into my heart… And
Darkness.. my cigarette end glows like a blood shot eye the mud wasp chirps the house rat scuttle by the shrill “Ge-ecko” of Geckos… a dog perched on its hind limbs sends out unpleasant vibrations picked up by its mate
It’s Spring! How true that love like buds could bloom? This heart yearns for some tenderness and care So much to hope such magic can resume, There’s none to pose a greater risk to bear; Will now Persephone remember me,
The Sun on my hands a shaft of light from somewhere. I first felt the warmth then the heat, the hands perspire the ray lights up countless jewels Diamond crusted gloves on moulded clay. Hands caressed each other, for time’s