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  • Rookie Iliya Gotby (1/17/2014 2:09:00 PM) Post reply
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    I see you somewhere between that broken man, and the wishful thought, somewhere where a time can't live, and a dream is far. What is the distance?I can't tell in light, but every time I close my eyes your only steps away, dancing in the mirages of my mind, teaching me patience.

    For what is real is perfect, and what is broken, the foolish man throws away.

  • Rookie Iliya Gotby (1/17/2014 2:02:00 PM) Post reply

    Right now my love is a broken Mirror, shattered by my hearts discontent
    I sit by the mirror for now, my own personal moonlight, piercing into the melancholic waves named Misery. I am here, still waiting, waiting for the day to reach your arms, wherever, waiting for the day, to stand in the same moment with you, to walk a million footsteps in the same path, stricken with joy, that every step was mine and yours. Waiting to tease each other with soft spoken words of the eye, because i know your eyes will speak louder to me than any tongue. I am still waiting for the day we hold each other, but I will not only understand you, I will understand me. And they will tell us this love we share is one of loves infractions, but we will only hear each other's voices. Living each day as if time stood still, under the warm untainted shelter of each other's skin, as I kiss you.

  • Freshman - 544 Points Adam M. Snow (1/17/2014 11:32:00 AM) Post reply

    She became My Gallows
    Written by Adam M. Snow

    What of this! ?
    Her sweet madness beautiful as snow;
    that by starlight! The rushes lean over her wide!
    The intoxication of her insanity draws me close.
    Her voice, calling out my name;
    haunting me.

    The moonlight pours out upon her -
    her wickedness is shown, who dreams with
    - a nest of mad kisses; a thousand years sad regrets.
    She is my agony -
    my cage -
    my demise.
    My loss of sanity is due her.

    She is haunting,
    such madness is this?
    I cared nothing for all,
    she is my breath, I can't live without.
    My essence
    - sighing around her where the stars are sleeping.
    The scented twilight, I hung there.

    She became my gallows -
    my wandering noose -
    my demise -
    the fall of a tragic poet.
    She is the bearer of my heart, locked away;
    I am nothing.

    I am nothing
    but a man locked in chains,
    who bears no voice;
    a victim to her madness
    - her bitter sweet madness beautiful as snow.

    She stole my heart -
    my voice -
    my name.
    I am her insanity as she is mine.
    She left me, her ghost to wander
    - sighing around her where the stars are sleeping.
    The scented twilight, I hung there.

  • Rookie Nkashyap Nk (1/17/2014 4:55:00 AM) Post reply

    Kehne ko h sab humare sath
    fir bhi hume teri kami kyo h....

    jo kashish thi
    teri mahoobat me..
    us kashish ki talash kyo h......

    ku wo hoke apne bhi
    .begano sa saluk karte h.
    Har kisi ki nazro pe naqab kyo h
    uski tanhai o me hum h......
    humri tnhai yoo me
    kami kyo h....

    dil ki samjha wese to
    asan h
    bol ke samjhana mushkil.....
    .aj bhi sachi mahobat ki
    bekadri kyooo h....

  • Rookie Nkashyap Nk (1/15/2014 10:37:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    kabhi kuch pa liya..kabhi kuch khodiyaaaa...
    zindagi tune har modh pe ap na hisab chuka liyaaaa..

    khamoshi bhi u di h humko.khushi bhi h gum bhi h
    jis ne chaha chodh diya jisne chaha apna liyaaa

    ek pal ko bhi tujhse zindagi mohbat na hui mujhe..
    jinhe bhi zindagi banaya humne tune.... chup chap se humari uska nisha hi zindagi se mita diyaaaa

    dard bhi hota h..par hume tune rone bhi na diya
    matlbi sa bandiya waqt ne humko
    sab pake bhi sabu tune churaliyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa............. —

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  • Rookie - 314 Points Sandip Goswami (1/13/2014 2:08:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply


    Who is the Poet

    Poet is a different personality in the universe,
    Whose voices come from soul
    Not lip, throat, heart, brain....

    Truly voice of the Almighty

    And every voice is universal truth

    Poet is not a part of any country, political parties and ism

    Poet creates different universe and true-ism

    And true leader, guide of the people in the universe.

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  • Rookie - 314 Points Sandip Goswami (1/13/2014 2:07:00 PM) Post reply


    Known, nothing will be written about me
    In any poem, story or essay

    Known, will not receive any co-operation from Governments
    Any honest or dishonest award...

    Nobody will burn incense on the day of my death
    Except my wife!

    Nobody will celebrate my birthday
    My birthday celebration will not happen...

    Although I am walking...thinking...creating...

    Only for You....Only for You...
    Only for You...My dream future...

  • Rookie - 314 Points Sandip Goswami (1/13/2014 2:06:00 PM) Post reply

    God And Woman (English & Bengali)

    God And Woman

    I did not want anything from The Almighty
    Sacrificed untouchable realization
    Which is symbol of myself
    And dedicated emotions, silence.

    I did not demand anything from the woman
    Allowed her into the corner of my mind
    Which is the center of bleeding
    And presented my intuition.

    The Almighty and the woman repeatedly call
    Destruction in my lonely life
    It's the ability to do more by them...

    ????? ??? ????

    ??? ??????? ???? ???? ??? ??
    ?????? ????? ?? ???????
    ???? ?????? ??? ??? ??? ??????
    ?? ???? ????, ???????

    ??? ????? ????? ???? ??? ??
    ??? ???? ???? ?? ???????
    ????????? ???? ??? ??????
    ?? ???? ????????

    ????? ??? ???? ???? ??????????
    ?????? ????? ???? ???
    ?? ???? ?????? ?????? ???? ????

  • Rookie - 1 Points Ian Jobst (1/13/2014 12:30:00 PM) Post reply

    I am Ian C. Jobst, and am fourteen years old. This poem was written in response to Edgar Allen Poe's Birth Day

    My Nefarious Love

    My nefarious love
    Angel wings of a dove
    Velvet voice tethered fell
    My heart yearning
    none other quell
    Yet behind ye façade
    and thy honeyed skin
    lies a soul of evil and sin
    Yet in ponderance I wonder
    If oureth love shall end asunder
    Yet just then my eyes caught
    upon gleam of light
    I beheld on my nightly vigil
    a grave and dear fright
    Yet Just as it I beheld
    did my eyes grow dim
    And so it was that
    my mistress my heart
    Took out my own
    and sliced it apart
    As blood pooled cross
    my lifeless chest
    I became but a soul,
    a wraith of no delight
    And call terror to her own though it be black as night
    And so I haunt her
    my mistress my heart
    I gave unto my mistress
    And she tore me apart

    Ian Jobst

  • Rookie - 3 Points James T. Karam (1/12/2014 11:41:00 PM) Post reply

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    Salem Willows, Ma

    When I was young in my time
    my family would take me to
    Salem Willows in the summertime.

    Oh those fond memories of Chop Suey at the Chine man place,
    he who once gave me a Mickey Mouse spoon, bright an shine, but lost in time,
    and with his pepper steak and the wonderful pop corn it was all just to fine.

    Memories of that time all gone now,
    in my old age here in El Paso, Texas
    I still smell the Salem Willows ocean in my mind
    and see my self playing on the rocks by the wooden pier...

    Many walks around the park,
    it was always picnic time...

    Oh how I long and miss you Willows,
    you bring back my many happy time

    Thank You...

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