18890
If I was to choose I would fall for you again. Coz you complete me In a way I can't describe.. For more poems join our channel
May I borrow a few pages?
There is still some sorrow of the past few months left to be written.
I don’t know how to gather inner pain onto paper.
I’ve kept it carefully stored in my heart instead.
I don’t let tears fall without reason,
perhaps not even when there is a reason.
And yes, maybe the fault is mine.
Pain truly begins when hope grows beyond limits,
or when hope is first awakened
only to be abandoned and scattered for no reason.
After all, whom am I complaining to?
Every drop of my pain is part of my identity.
I know exactly where it came from.
I want to forget all my confusions
and stay away from those relationships
where I’m only allowed to play the second role.
My priorities don’t even remain limited to myself anymore.
I get treated like a pawn in a game of chess,
one that moves forward but can never return.
I don’t want any kind of rights anymore
that pull me away from who I truly am.
And when I try to return, I’m told,
“Well sir, we didn’t need you here anyway.
But since you’ve come, have a cup of tea before you leave.”
For a moment, it felt good when I realized
that my sadness mattered to sorrow itself.
But that very day, my sleep woke me up too.
There’s just one wish left this year.
That tonight I sleep peacefully without a single thought.
No wrinkles on my forehead.
Only silence as far as the eye can see.
No noise, no chaos.
And when I wake, may it be a new morning,
sunlight blooming everywhere.
I’ll sit on a chair in the warmth of the sun,
a cup of tea in my hand,
calculating the profits and losses of this year’s joys.
May I have a few more pages?
So I can write today itself
what I should do and what I shouldn’t.
I don’t want distance from the relationships that still remain.
And if there’s even a little time left to laugh,
let it not be a fake smile,
but happiness from deep within,
refreshing the mind like the earthy scent after rain.
And yes, if I put effort into making a relationship better,
may I receive the same response in return,
without expectations.
In search of perfection,
I no longer want to lose what is already good.
What can never be mine,
I no longer wish to belong to either.
The words refuse to stop today.
I just want to keep writing.
Perhaps speaking it out loud might invite bad luck.
Now, I simply want to exist in this life of mine.
Come on, don’t be upset if I ask for one more page.
I’ll write again next year.
Perhaps I’ll be seen on old paths,
but with some new talent this time.
Do we really comprehend what it means to have someone?
Let’s start with the basics: someone. A human. A complex organism that comes in countless shades. Some are breathtakingly beautiful, but all are complex even in their moronic simplicity.
Have you heard their voices? Some make you wish you could give up your eyes just to savor the delicacy of sound they offer. A hello becomes a symphony; a chuckle alone can levitate your soul to the third heaven.
And some are the reason sayings like “a sight for sore eyes” exist you could look at them endlessly, like fine art, wishing you could place them in a shrine and bring offerings.
Others make you wonder whether it’s the usual mushy brain inside their skull, or if the gods misplaced an oracle there instead. Maybe they poured a poet’s ashes where blood should be, because you can’t help but want them for their ideas, their songs, their lines. Every minute with them rearranges your neurons and feels like a divine sensation in your spirit.
Some must have been friends with the Creator before they were human hands kissed into existence so they could recreate what they once built in heaven. Hands that don’t relent until the last piece of culinary perfection, architectural brilliance, or fashion icon is complete. You want to submit yourself body and soul into those hands, just to be remade.
What was I saying?
Ah. To have someone.
Do we truly understand what it means to have someone like that?
“Seems the self you get left with on the shore, in the end, is the self that you were when you went.”
-Autumn, Ali Smith
What's the best way to handle this situation
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Still in the mood for Christmas.
Thank God its Friday. Please have fun.
Weightless Gravity.
Her smile
slips in like spring rain,
soft, alluring, impossible to ignore.
It curls around my thoughts,
stirring something I can’t name,
provoking a pull I can’t resist.
It rearranges the room quietly,
shifting the mood of the moment.
I chase it silently,
wanting it to linger longer.
Each glance is a spark,
brightening the dull in my lull.
It hides, returns,
daring me to notice,
leaving traces I can’t discard,
marks of a presence that won’t release me.
And in that pursuit,
I find myself leaning closer,
caught in a weightless gravity
that exists only where she is.
~ The Modern Romeo
22.12.2025
t.me/symonsaichpoetry
Shared thoughts.
You loaned your friend Kshs 4,000/= last year BUT since then he has refused to pay back, which has really deteriorated the friendship. You beg him to just pay you Kshs 2,000/= and forget the rest because you are in a financial crisis.
Your friend then says he can only get you Kshs 1,500/= since that's all he has.
You feel like you have no option but to accept. You give him your account details to send the amount directly to your bank.
You wake up the next morning, check your account and there is Kshs 15,000/= in it.
You keep staring at the screen in disbelief but it is indeed 15k.
You grab your phone and find 53 missed calls from him and an additional 27 text messages begging you to transfer back Kshs 13,500/= since he only meant to send Kshs 1,500/= and accidentally added an extra "0."
What are you supposed to do?
REFLECTION OF A MIRAGED GRANITE
Hey come let's paint
Paint that eases this pain
Hey come
Sir, sit
You seem broken
Broke yet broken
Artistic stick that boldy moulds
Yet broke and broken
Architecturally stick that picks ideas and bends all fears
Yet broken and bold
Are you okay?
Erase not yet easy,
Partition. Scale down
Plait,
Big strides stroked in past pains
Graphics ,a granite ,grand and greatest story
Good ,so nice
A master piece of hidden torture
Are you okay?
Geographically geothermally and geometrically perfect,
Yet pains plead ,
The black bolt smiles
Echoing for help ,
When the sun goes down,
I might be okay.
I will be okay.
I need to be okay.....
Daybreak, night falls
Mid night traumas
Am I really okay?
Have I accomplished my mission for the day?
Echoes scream,
Flash backs fast forward,
Now plans not accomplished
Am I okay?
Am I to be blamed?
Letter after letter
Paragraphs paraphrased..
It is, as it was
It' will be
or maybe as it was is now should ,
And will be forever
,but,
Maybe my granite fades.
Am doomed to be faint as I paint faintly forever.
Am I all -right in saying
I am alright..?
Granites frowns
© Hurmphrey the poet
The wordsblacksmith254
POETRY IN ME...
The poetry in me moves quietly, as a pulse beneath the noise of days,
Waiting for a moment to rise.
It shapes itself in the spaces I leave open,
While filling the pauses between thoughts,
Like a voice I never fully control.
Sometimes it comes as a whisper,
Like a soft reminder that I am more than what the world asks of me.
Sometimes it surges like a tide,
Pushing against the edges of my calm, insisting on being felt,
Through it all I carry it gently,containing it as an inner current of meaning,
the poetry in me, keeps the othet me noticeable😁.
BLACKX🖤
I’m glad your existence crosses paths with mine.
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That may mean nothing to them, but that's no small thing to God.
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Sacrifice, not money, is the price of living life on your own terms—the life of your dreams.
Uzithepoet
#Sacrifice
Anyone with any idea of some online work kindly
DIYem /channel/makavelike
Another year has passed,
as if time
wasn’t trying to reach anywhere,
only trying to move on.
Just yesterday
I heard the last breath
of the old year,
and today
the new one stands in the room
without knocking.
Time doesn’t give time anymore.
It only
keeps moving.
And I...
a traveler who walks in pauses,
fall behind
every time.
There’s no space left
to feel moments.
Living itself
has slipped
into memory.
Dates come and go
like calculations
where my name
is just a blank space.
Seasons
don’t change by years now,
they change in days.
People
have already changed
before the meeting even happens.
Everything except me
is caught in a fast current.
And I
stand on the shore,
just watching the water move.
New day, fresh energy.
Whatever tried to break you yesterday didn’t win,so today, go harder💪.
You’re closer than you think.
Good morning champs 🥂🤍
*The library of Hours*
In the bid to take what was Caesar’s in twenty-five,
I stepped into the ring just to feel alive.
So much has transpired in the dust and the heat,
The taste of the victory, the salt of defeat.
Many times Caesar stood still, a king on his throne,
Watching me claim what I thought was my own.
He didn't always chase; he let the weight be the cost,
Counting the gold while I counted what I lost.
But periodically, the tide would turn cold,
And Caesar fought back with a strike that was bold.
I carry the marks now, the purple and red,
The echoes of words that should not have been said.
But you should have seen him—I gave what I got,
I landed my punches, I fired every shot.
A symphony of bloody noses and pride,
With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
I learned the hard way, through the grit and the rue,
Of the ache of biting off more than I could chew.
It follows me home, a shadow in the hall,
A reminder that pride is the breath ‘ere the fall.
I used to think "grab the bull by the horns" was the way,
But the bull is much heavier at the end of the day.
Perhaps the real strength isn't found in the tear,
But in knowing which burdens are worth the long year.
Look at me now: a collection of shards,
Scattered by chaos and the war of the guards.
There are pieces of me left on battlefields past,
And fragments of mind where the shadows were cast.
Shattered by struggle, broken by choice,
I listen for the echoes of my own quiet voice.
I am picking them up—every splinter, every bone—
And mending a self that is uniquely my own.
I am weaving a string, an artifact of the soul,
To carry into next year and finally be whole.
Deep down, the child in me lingers there yet,
In a world of wonders he cannot forget.
Mothered by many, but taught by a few,
He views the world through a judgmental hue.
He is stubborn and small, with a childish mind,
Searching for something he’s yet to find.
But I see him in the walks under the drizzle’s soft play,
And the secrets whispered in the sun’s golden ray.
When I gather these fragments—the child and the man,
The wars that I fought and the races I ran—
The mosaic of "me" always leads back to you,
The one constant heart in a world of untrue.
I know there will come a day, certain and cold,
When my name is a whisper, a story long told.
Inevitability waits for us all in the end,
Where the lines of existence finally bend.
But until that silence, I love what has stayed:
The pieces that clung to my robe, unafraid.
The true parts of me that survived through the fire,
Clinging to love as the flames rose higher.
Despite the collisions, the year had its grace,
A "catchy" momentum, a blur of a pace.
I met the many-faced world, the strange and the kind,
Left a few bridges and heartaches behind.
We toasted to birthdays, we laughed in the sun,
We counted the battles we thought we had won.
But if you should ask for the crown of it all,
I wouldn’t point to the trophies hung high on the wall.
Instead, I would lead you away from the light,
To the "Library of Hours" we spent in the night.
The lost, quiet minutes that didn't earn pay,
The hours we "wasted" just drifting away.
Just like a library, dusty and vast,
These are the stories I know how to last.
They are empty of Caesar, they are empty of war,
They are simply the peace I was traveling for.
Trust me when I say, as the calendar ends,
The value of life on a heartbeat depends.
The best of my time wasn't spent on the throne,
But in the "lost hours" where I wasn't alone.
So here is my toast, as the final sun sets,
To the one who forgives all my debts and regrets:
Thank you for staying through the breaking and mending.
I love you, Love 😘.
Unending.
jc
Good Morning
Photographers, show us a picture YOU took. No description, just a pic. 📸
By: adam hliva
Shoko J/ King Jey
+263779304306
+263715743345
🇿🇼🇿🇼🇿🇼🇿🇼🇿🇼
DEFINED.
I know
What I do,
I do.
What I did,
I did.
And the way I did it
Defines me.
Bleeding on the Asphalt
In a spur of a moment,
shots tore the air,
splitting the day clean open.
People ran, others froze,
their shouts of liberty
breaking into wails the sky couldn’t hold.
Banners fell.
Shoes and bodies lay scattered,
dreams cut from the futures
They were fighting toward.
Teargas rose quietly,
ashamed of its own work.
Yet through the smoke,
a cracked voice climbed upward —
then another.
Fire catching fire.
Proof that fear can wound,
But it cannot silence a people.
History may sand down the edges,
But we remember it raw:
names in the dust,
echoes stitched into our throats,
a dream bleeding on the asphalt
where thousands more will rise.
~The Modern Romeo
10th Dec 2025
/channel/sirmohsaichpoetry/2233
WHAT I HATED..
I became what I hated,
A shape cast by my own shadow,growing quietly behind me while I looked elsewhere for blame,
Never noticing the slow turning of my own hands.
I became what I hated,
Not in a single moment,
but in a thousand small surrenders to fear, pride and comfort of habits that eroded who I meant to be.
I became what I hated,
The realization was a mirror held uncomfortably close,
Revealing a face I recognized only in the trembling of its honesty.
I became what I hated,
The one without a fracture of light for hope to go back to the one i once was,
Happy old days....
I became what I hated,
I stand at the threshold
between regrets and renewal,
Wondering of what happendd to the path that lead me back to my real self...
BLACKX🖤
Second Chance
Life whispers softly through the cracks of time,
A fragile heart beats, unsure but prime.
Mistakes once carved in shadows deep,
Now lie dormant, awake from sleep.
We stumbled once through shadowed days,
Lost in the maze of our own ways.
Yet life, persistent, gently calls,
And love still waits beyond old walls.
And from those days, a lesson grows,
The past may linger, scarred and raw,
Yet hope arrives, without a flaw.
For hearts that falter, hearts that break,
Find courage in the chance to wake.
A second chance, a whispered start,
To mend the pieces of the heart.
Through storms we’ve known, through nights we’ve roamed,
We find at last our way back home.
© Mukami Kinyua
I STILL DWELL IN THE PROMISES
I still dwell in the promises,
The ones spoken softly in the quiet hours, held like fragile glass between our hands, believed in them because hope asked me to believe.
I still move through their echoes,
Shadows of intentions that once felt solid,
Carried like a warm coat in a season that turned colder without warning.
Some days they visit me gently,
Reminding me of what could have been, as if the future paused mid-stride
waiting for us to find our courage.
Other days they press on my chest, heavy with the weight of what remained unsaid,
All forming a landscape of unfinished thoughts stretching further than I expected.
But look at me,
Still, I remain here,not out of weakness,
But remembering,because even broken faith can leave behind a trace of light.
BLACKX🖤
“Look at me”
“Use your words”
“Good girl”
“Come here…”
“That’s my pretty girl”
“Mhmmm…”
“Don’t get shy now”
“I won’t ask again”
“Get on your knees”
“Don’t move, darling”
“Just like that”
“Faster baby”
“You’re mine”
“That’s my girl”
“Say please”
“I’m not done”
People don’t talk enough about the kind of regret that hits when you open up to someone thinking they were a safe space… just to find out they never were. That feeling of handing someone pieces of you they didn’t deserve? That’s a different kind of hurt.
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