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Every Day Poems

Гео и язык канала: Весь мир, Английский

Категория: Цитаты

✍️ 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

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Every Day Poems

17 Dec, 04:20

Репост из: Inner Persona

Why I Walk Slow?

I walk slow
as if my feet have sunken
deep in the flat road,
my steps small
like the silent murmurs of the grasses
I trod on.

I walk slow—
for the moss to creep from the shade,
for the demure leaves to find their voice,
for the fleeting clouds to build home inside me.

The journey that seemed to betray me
with each step I took,
but I found the treasure
as I walked slow,
the lonely rocks taught me to be strong,
the stars lent me their hope,
the furtive breeze told me to let go
and that's why I walk slow,
for what I seek
and what I learn
is all along the path
and not at the end.

956 0 5 9

Every Day Poems

17 Dec, 02:12

Репост из: Whispered Verses

One day,
when you long to be heard,
I might be there,
but deaf.
I’ll hope you gaze into my eyes,
and in that quiet,
you’ll find the answer,
without a word.

- Achu B

#Agony

949 0 4 19

Every Day Poems

16 Dec, 22:04

The autumn leaves fall,
The sky, a shade of grey.
The rains are coming,
But it'll all be okay.

You've survived storms.
You've survived worse.
You've stood on the battlefield,
And been the most fierce.

You've won every battle,
You've held your shield high.
Can't control how everyone feels,
But god knows that you still try.

The battlefield's welcoming you,
You can't give up this time.
Start the final countdown,
And see how things will be just fine.

It's not white lies this time,
It's an advice to follow.
Fake it till you make it.
Let go of all the needless sorrow.

Hold your head up high,
You are not some mad maniac.
They'll try to break your spirit,
But never ever take a step back.

Hold onto your shield,
Just like you've always done.
You might be losing control,
But this time, you won't run.

You might fall and stumble,
You might as well shed a tear.
Don't be scared, don't hesitate,
It's not a sign of fear.

The kurukshetra's designed for you,
You're fighting for your own dharma.
Not everything's in your control,
Leave out things for karma.

See how the battlefield welcomes you,
It believes in you for the last time.
Start the final countdown,
And see how things will be just fine.

~Aarya

1.1k 0 7 13

Every Day Poems

16 Dec, 19:57

Репост из: Librettos of Lily

She greets death with a kiss, in love with the treason of altering her soul like the night fall won't pass and crumble the things close to her heart's desire. It is a custom of a woman, to repair what you didn't break, they told her long ago and she treats what she didn't believe in like a myth told to scare small girls with big spirits. They said, if there was a shadow of a doubt in your veins, you must let it be buried formally, in front of everyone that wants it gone. If you have voices of your own too big for your small frame then you will do well to bite your tongue they chanted. And she knew if there was anyone to be scared of, it wasn't them for even the slight change of tone of her wolfy voice shakes something inside them. She knew the only way to control a menace is to weaken it with fear or use the method of pirates and collect the heart of an ocean like an object. They think power is control yet power was the ability to move the ship without lifting a finger.

Preservation is a price too big to pay for someone else's sins.

1k 0 4 6

Every Day Poems

16 Dec, 17:50

Репост из: The Accidental Poet

The more I run
the closer you come,
a shadow that clings
to my every step.

Isn’t it a tragedy?
To be haunted
by what you once loved.

1.1k 0 8 22

Every Day Poems

16 Dec, 11:37

Репост из: Retrogade Dissociation

"How long before you realized that the ones you looked up to had craters as deep as their length and rifts that tore their souls?

How long before you saw they were simply better at mending their broken pieces and sewing their tears on their own?"

1.3k 0 6 19

Every Day Poems

16 Dec, 09:30

Репост из: unintelligible

After the Storm: Part IV

The truth is,
I didn’t see her slipping away.
Not at first.
She would smile at me,
but her eyes didn’t shine
the way they used to.
She asked me how my day was,
but I barely answered.
I thought she’d always be there.
I thought love didn’t need tending,
like it would keep blooming on its own.

But love isn’t a garden
you can ignore.
If you don’t water it,
it dries up.
And when it did,
she went looking for rain
somewhere else.

I remember now
how she used to sit by the window,
watching the world outside.
She wanted me to join her.
She wanted me to notice her.
But I stayed lost
in my own thoughts,
in my own storms,
not seeing the one
building inside her.

She didn’t leave me right away.
No, she stayed.
She waited.
She tried.
But I was blind to her loneliness.
I didn’t hear the questions
in her silence
or see the pain in her smile.

So when she found someone else—
someone who listened,
someone who noticed her—
I couldn’t blame her.
Not really.
But I did.
Because it was easier to be angry
than to admit I was the one
who let her go.

I didn’t ask her why.
Not at first.
I only raged.
I broke the quiet of our home
with words I’ll never forgive myself for.
She stood there,
tears in her eyes,
and whispered,
“You stopped seeing me.”

And that was it.
The truth came down on me,
harder than any storm.
I could have saved her,
saved us,
but I didn’t.
And when I lost control,
when my hands moved
before my heart could stop them,
I sealed it.

Now, I sit in this garden,
where her hands once planted life.
I press my fingers into the soil,
searching for the pieces of her
I’ll never find.
I want to believe
she forgives me.
But forgiveness feels far away,
like a place I’ll never reach.

I should have loved her better.
I should have seen her pain.
But I didn’t.
And now,
the storms stay with me,
raining over a love
I let wither and die.

1.4k 0 10 22

Every Day Poems

16 Dec, 07:23

Репост из: Poetic Therapy

I am tired of this world that keeps asking—
be softer, be kinder,
give more of yourself than you have.

But what is left to give
when your hands are already shaking,
when your heart is a house without walls,
and the rain won’t stop coming in?

I tell myself to keep trying.
But even trying feels like drowning sometimes.

#pretending
#losspoetry

1.2k 0 12 24

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 22:42

Репост из: Librettos of Lily

At first, it tasted like sun-beams with fresh smell and inviting ripes, ready to be devoured by angel-like souls who fed upon anything new, anything worth the race of their innocent little curious hearts. They bestowed knowledge, wisdom, the gift to individualistic pursuit, and the will to defy. It would lure in them with speculations and mysteries, disguising their true intentions.

At last, it tasted like slaughter in their mouths, mingled with tragic sight that broke their angel wings. It would go rotten in their stomachs, slice their insides and gut their flesh, break their bones, making them mortal feeble dust. It would bestow death, sin, destruction, self-loathing. It would make them whine in madness as they slowly wither each day and night. It won't hide like before, instead it would take them for sinister pleasure called revenge.

1.4k 0 3 10

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 20:35

Репост из: Inner Persona

I'm not pensive, I swear.
I don't ask my heart
why do you keep beating
even after all the accusations
you face, for being insane.
My mind, in no way,
suffers from a cataclysmic typhoon
of dern, gloomy thoughts
and my soul remains unscathed,
untouched by the trivial waves of emotions,
hence, it never aches.
As I said before,
I'm blithe and nonchalant.

I live today
only after forgetting yesterday
and bury no traces of it
that smells like regret.
It's all in their minds…
what a strange world I live in
and must I add, I say no lies,
NEVER.

#Irony

1.4k 0 3 16

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 18:28

Репост из: The Accidental Poet

"Sometimes, I don’t know if I want to be found or
if I’ve grown comfortable being lost."

1.4k 0 14 25

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 16:21

Репост из: Poetic Therapy

They promised me kingdoms,
but left me with ruins.
The crown,
once gilded with promises,
now crumbles with the weight of betrayal.

I sift through the dust,
searching for jewels
that were never real.
The throne is splintered,
its wood groaning under the weight
of stories I can no longer tell.

And yet I wear the rags of royalty,
a monarch of ash,
ruling over shadows
of what might have been.

#hopeinruins
#losspoetry

1.5k 0 9 10

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 14:14

Репост из: unintelligible

After the Storm: Part II

The rain had stopped,
but inside me,
it kept falling.

I walked to the garden,
her kitchen light behind me,
her shadow moving slowly—
a habit of love
that I barely noticed
when I was young.

I think of my wife now.
Her smile,
the way she laughed at things
I thought were small,
the way she loved me
when I didn’t deserve it.

I didn’t care enough,
didn’t see her for what she was,
until the day she was gone.
She told me once,
“You’re always somewhere else,”
and I shrugged it off.
Now I know where I was—
lost in myself,
blinded by my own storms.

She left quietly,
as if she didn’t want to disturb me,
even in death.
And when they called to tell me,
I stood still,
the phone cold in my hand.
I didn’t cry.
Not then.

But now, I feel her absence
in the spaces she used to fill—
her favorite chair,
the empty side of the bed,
her cup cooling on the table.

My mother sees it.
She doesn’t ask,
but her silence speaks louder
than anything else.
Her love feels like forgiveness,
though I haven’t earned it.

I kneel in the dirt,
the rosemary brushing my fingers.
My wife loved this garden.
She planted these roots
while I stood in the doorway,
too busy to help.

The rain has stopped,
but the ground is soft.
I press my hands into the earth,
as if I can find her here,
as if I can say,
“I’m sorry.”

This is how loss feels—
not like thunder,
but like the quiet after,
when the world keeps going
and you are left behind,
still soaked in the storm.

1.5k 0 4 15

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 12:07

Репост из: Bruce Wayne🎶

The Food Problem

"What am I going to eat now?"
Asks the rich, for he has an abundance
Of food choices—he's been spending
Half an hour scrolling down the culinary app,
Salivating on the sight of the appetizing meats and snacks.
Some days he'd repeat the same thought process
While studying the menu at a restaurant.

"What am I going to eat now?"
Asks the poor, for he has none.
He then proceeds to scour the trash can
At the back of the restaurant.
The sight of the leftover chicken makes him drool—
Not much of the meat left, but it's better than yesterday.

"I'm thankful for what I'm having."
Says the modest. He then continues to pray
Before consuming the simple dinner he can afford that day—
No thought to complain for he has known
The taste of meatless bones
He found inside the garbage bin
At the back of the local fast-food chain.

1.5k 0 8 21

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 10:00

Репост из: Poetic Therapy

They say history repeats itself,
but it is not history;
it is us—
our stubborn grip
on the threads of the familiar,
our refusal to unwrite
the tragedies that define us.
We call it destiny,
but it is only fear
worn like a shroud.

1.6k 0 8 18

Every Day Poems

15 Dec, 07:53

Репост из: Iris's Diary

A little jewellery I own:
a pair of silver earrings, a gold nose ring,
a pair of silver anklets, a pearl ring.
These are said to be mine, to be my own—
this little jewellery I own.

They shimmer, they glitter,
shiny white and yellow metal.
A place in my heart for these pieces,
though I may sound materialistic.

Earned through hard work and sweat,
a gift from life's anchors lovingly set.
A sense of belonging they hold,
a sense of warmth in the cold.

The little shell I lived in was shattered,
my little jewellery lay scattered.
When I broke the nose ring I own,
the little jewellery I owned was disowned.

– Iris

1.7k 0 4 16

Every Day Poems

13 Dec, 21:09

Репост из: Librettos of Lily

I remained unsettled, bruised over the words that didn't leave my mouth and bruised over ones that did without intent,

I remained forgotten, forgotten by the love that never knew me and that one I told about my somber night,

I remained silent, silent to be heard in the middle of chaos and silent to be completely free of words,

I remained plain, plain enough not to be threatening the world and plain enough to be left alone.

-At what cost?

2.1k 0 7 31

Every Day Poems

13 Dec, 06:16

Репост из: The Accidental Poet

“I spent so long trying
to be strong for others,
I forgot how to cry for myself.”

2.4k 0 25 64

Every Day Poems

13 Dec, 04:09

Репост из: unintelligible

After the Storm: Part III

I stayed in the garden
long after my mother went inside.
The air felt heavy,
like it knew the weight I carried,
the truth I buried
In the rosemary she planted.

She was my swan.
Pretty and innocent-
or so I thought.
She moved through life
with an elegance I didn’t question,
a beauty I was too blind to doubt.
And me?
I was the fool who taught the swan
how to cheat.

I gave her trust,
love,
freedom.
And she took it all,
used it to hide her lies
In a veil,
I never saw through it—
not until it was too late.

It was a letter.
Not meant for me.
Folded neatly,
tucked between the pages
of her favorite book.
His name was there.
His words were there.
Words I had never written.
Words I could never take back.

I remember confronting her,
the way her face changed—
how quickly grace turned to guilt,
how silence gave her away
before she even spoke.
I was the storm then.
I raged,
I begged,
I broke.
But she didn’t deny it.
Not once.

That night,
the clouds hid the stars.
The sky watched
as I held her trembling hands
and asked her why.
She didn’t cry.
She only said,
“I was lonely.”

The world shattered.
A thousand pieces of us
fell to the floor.
I didn’t know who I was anymore.
And she?
She wasn’t the swan I loved—
she was something else,
something I couldn’t bear to see.

In the end,
I don’t know what came over me.
I don’t remember the moment
my hands moved to her throat,
the moment her gasps
turned to silence.
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t hate.
It was loss,
A serene loss.

Her body crumpled to the ground,
fragile as the petals
she used to press between books.
And I stood there,
the storm inside me
finally quiet.

Now, every step I take
is soaked in her absence.
Every breath I draw
is heavy with regret.
I come to the garden
to search for forgiveness
in the soil she loved,
but there’s none to be found.

She was my swan,
and I killed her.
The rain has stopped,
but the storm never left me.

2.5k 0 5 19

Every Day Poems

12 Dec, 19:56

Репост из: Librettos of Lily

And if she takes her time to draw your face in canvases, envisions the things you would say to her while staring into her soul like the sailor song would if it had eyes, don't take her for granted,

And if she takes her sweet time to read you her favourite line in a book, thinking you would know her more while she gently guides you to her inner world, don't take her for granted.

~now you know your deadly sin?

2.2k 0 8 25

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