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yıldız Mar 9
In the moonlight's gentle glow,
We met for reasons we may not know.
A blessing wrapped in silver light,
Or a lesson learned in the quiet night.

Each moment shared, a guiding star,
Illuminating who we truly are.
In shadows deep or bright embrace,
Our paths entwined, a sacred space.
Gideon Mar 8
Art is a lesson for both its creator and those who admire it.
With every soft brushstroke, carefully selected synonym,
or drawn out note, the artist learns a new way to create,
a new way to evoke emotion from others by ripping it
straight out of their own chest. An artist can do this with
a graceful combination of ease and effort. Those who see
the canvas, read the pages, or listen to the melody, are only
able to grasp the pieces of the pain that are reflected within
their own souls. Inside, we are all fragments of the same
shattered mirror. Its glass once reflected only the face of God,
but now it reflects parts of us. Does it still show God’s visage?

Are we God’s art? Were we a lesson for the all-knowing? Does
even our creator learn from our mistakes, flaws, imperfections?
Old and young,
we bleed the same.
Queer and straight,
we bleed the same.
Fat and thin,
we bleed the same.
Black and white,
we bleed the same.

We were not born to hate—
we are taught to hate.
And those who indoctrinate
are the ones who shan’t create.

We must end this self-obsession,
this sickness that breeds oppression.
Stop feeding children poisoned lies
that twist their hearts and cloud their eyes.

Instead, teach love—teach respect,
so we can learn to reconnect.
Save them from our ignorance,
for we are the same—same—no different.
A powerful message of unity, equality, and the dangers of learned hatred.
Zywa Feb 28
Just live like a bus

driver, all the diversions --


then become the route.
Column in De Standaard (2025, An Olaerts)

Collection "Stream"
Iska Feb 27
Days flit by
like a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop


As If watching a leaky faucet
In a plugged sink
The drops are slow to build
Weighted down by their own mass
As they reach a point where gravity
can no longer be surpassed,
To a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop


As they fall into the basin
scattering ripples
And splattering droplets
As they fall
Gathering light in a glittering bowl
As the next drop slowly begins to flow
By the
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop


But once you’re attention is pulled
And the visual is no longer there
Only a sound heard
Consistent tempo filling the air
Seeming to speed
where eyes can’t see
And the budding drops
fall carelessly
With a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop


before you know it the basin is filled
With the drops cascading
beyond ones will
And the ripples now
scatter to waves against the brim
Caving to gravities endless whim
As a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop


Once you notice, it’s far too late
The marble is shimmering
with streams and ponds
As it tallies the fee of water wasted
So too does time slip from the basin
And the coins we pay
exchanged with age
To a
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drop


Before you know it
time has come to a stop
along with both
the drip
and the drop
jonathan Dec 2024
years spent numbing the pain
ignoring it's sting
covering it up
downplaying the hurt it causes

it will only lead
to you feeling

an aching numbness of existence
in self inflicted solitude

stand up for yourself
if no one takes care of you,
then you gotta do it instead
Ian Dec 2024
Once Baghdad was conquered,
And al-Musta'sim was imprisoned,
Hulegu Khan, aware of the king's
Great wealth and treasure,
Approached his cell, and bade him eat
Of his sumptuous goods.
The king, most bewildered by this order,
at once looked unto the Khan
and said, with voice stern,
“I shall do no such thing!”. It was then
The Khan proceeded to ask,
“Then why do you horde these gilded coins,
And precious jewels, and stones
Of land afar that you use not
To better the defense of your empire,
Or the welfare of your people,
Or the health of your animals?”
The king was silent, and the Khan's ire thusly grew.
“They then must be to eat
If they are not to be used
To strengthen your realm.”
“Do you store food for later consumption?”
“If so, why store these riches if they are not food?”
The king’s silence had yet to cease,
For he knew not what to say.
The days passed and to inanition
The king succumbed, alone and abreast of his treasure.
I once loved a man
Who had two faces
Told me words of love and reassurance
Even showered me with praises

But his words never
Matched what he truly felt
Because it was only pain
Not love or care I was dealt

I once loved a man
Who never meant what he phrased
His actions burned me
Leaving me chared and scathed

Told me he’d be there
When I needed him the most
But when the moment finally came
I was left with a ghost

I once loved a man
Who couldn’t be what I craved
The cards he left me with
Were truly cruel and depraved

The lesson I learned
Was only I could save me
Not the man with two faces
Who called me his lady
Aaron Nov 2024
The clock ticks softly but fast
There's no mean to see our past
Moments fade like falling stars
Life whispers to move onwards
First try to write a short poem full of teaching,meanings and depth
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