Tag: Poetry
-
What Is One Thing I Would Change About Myself?
I have often asked the question with trembling lips, as if the act of asking might scatter the fragile architecture I have built around my being—a cathedral of memories, mistakes, half-lit confessions, and unfinished prayers that hum quietly under my skin. What would I change, if I were given the power to rewrite the gravity…
-
Strength Lies Not in What We Hold Onto but What We Are Willing to Release
In a world that teaches us to cling, this poem turns to winter trees for quieter wisdom, where strength is not a clenched fist but an open palm willing to release what no longer nourishes the soul. It moves through the stark beauty of bare branches, the discipline of conserving energy for what truly matters,…
-
The Alchemy of Quitting: A Journey Through Letting Go and Becoming
Quitting is not the absence of ambition, but the presence of clarity. The stone becomes sand. The storm becomes rain. The wound becomes a scar that glows in the dark. We do not quit to escape the world, but to return to it—not as the same person, but as a different kind of whole. #QuittingAsFreedom…
-
The Chronos Paradox: A Requiem for Soul-Time
A vast, contemplative journey into the heart of human longing, exploring the agonizing gap between the soul’s infinite yearning for understanding, connection, and creation, and the brutal scarcity of Chronos (linear time). This piece blends philosophy, deep spiritual reflection, and emotional reality, revealing how the deepest experiences—from profound empathy to artistic genesis—are perpetually betrayed by…
-
Holding Hands Isn’t Possession—It’s Connection
A meditative poetic journey through tenderness, love, and human closeness—reminding that holding hands is not ownership but a moment of shared being. Each touch whispers a simple truth: stay, not because you must, but because presence itself is sacred. #FreeVerse #LovePoetry #HumanConnection #Mindfulness #EmotionalIntimacy #PoeticJourney #SoulfulWriting #StayWithMe #ModernPoetry #PebbleGalaxy
-
When the Earth Chooses Its Favorite Month
Time turns through landscapes, not calendars—each month unfolding as a pulse of light, water, and breath. In this free verse poem, I try to listen to the Earth’s quiet language: frost whispering in January, rain forgiving in July, and leaves applauding in October. A lyrical journey through change, belonging, and the infinite conversation between nature…
-
What’s My Favorite Month of the Year? A Journey Through Time and Self
Exploring the emotional landscape of time moving through each month as a mirror of inner change—from January’s quiet beginnings to October’s graceful endings—finding meaning, transformation, and peace within the rhythm of seasons. #PoetryOfTime #ReflectionPoetry #SeasonalJourney #LifeInSeasons #WritingCommunity #EmotionalGrowth #LiteraryArt #MindfulPoetry #SelfDiscovery #PoetryOfChange #WhatIsYourFavoriteMonth #Poetry
-
The Theatre of Voices: Walking Beyond Judgment and Noise
A reflective free verse poem exploring the human journey in a world of endless opinions. “The Theatre of Voices” traces the soul’s quest for authenticity amid noise, praise, and criticism. It celebrates inner truth, detachment, and the serene strength found in walking one’s path with quiet conviction. #FreeVersePoetry #ModernPoetry #SpiritualReflection #MindfulLiving #PoeticWisdom #SelfDiscovery #InnerPeace #Authenticity…
-
Whispers Across Time: A Conversation with My Childhood Self
A heartfelt poetry exploring the deep, reflective conversation between an adult self and his childhood self. Through dialogue filled with innocence, questions, courage, and healing, they bridge the gap across time, blending dreams and reality to embrace wholeness and self-love. A poetic journey in vulnerability and hope. #PoetryOfSelf #InnerChild #HealingPoetry #SelfReflection #CreativeWriting #EmotionalHealing #ChildhoodMemories #SelfDiscovery…
-
Whispers of Shelter: A Small Act of Kindness I’ll Never Forget #BlogchatterHalfMarathon @Blogchatter
There are days when memory surges forward unexpected, unbidden—as if the past cannot bear to lie still. It begins with hunger—that slow, tender longing tugging my ribs, the way afternoons feel when the school bell releases a flood of possibility—and I had just enough for a bus ticket home. And then—a palm hovering, gentle, awkward,…
Poetry Hub 