Poet Poems
Reflections of the Self
by Ayatullah Nurjati
As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
He Never Sleeps
by Aryan Bhardwaj
They say he never sleeps,
Eyes wide, a steady gaze,
Not from the buzz of late-night thoughts,
But from the quiet pace of days.
Yet something lingers in his stillness,
A shadow wrapped in light,
A flicker of a restless mind,
Too quiet in the night.
......
Never Old
by Yayu Uppsurya
Brains are rotting, limbs are toast,
Every day flatlining, in a sleepy ghost.
That buzz, can't chase the stars' robust,
Turn to sunset blaze, the finest, no boast,
Glance back in a flash-
You' re just twenty, no time to lost.
How you even old, can' t outpace the bed?
Always caving in, just 'yeah' is what you said.
You' re not old at all, got pride, ain' t dead,
......
horny and creative and desperate
by Bogdan Dragos
He went nine years without doing
it. Five of those
were spent in prison so it
was just normal
but the other four he spent
desperately trying and failing
He did look fine before
he got into hardcore drugs
and crime
......
The Banishment of the Poet
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Alien interpreters with long, grey beards
predicted the astonishments of the heavens.
Swallows migrate southwards
to the trial precincts of committed
visionaries – they swore dinosaurs
were here once.
A star shoots the length of
night sky in one long-tailed, silent trumpet of message.
Within eons of a blazing, returning
comet and epochs of swollen annihilations,
......
He Never Sleeps
by Aryan Bhardwaj
They say he never sleeps,
Eyes wide, a steady gaze,
Not from the buzz of late-night thoughts,
But from the quiet pace of days.
Yet something lingers in his stillness,
A shadow wrapped in light,
A flicker of a restless mind,
Too quiet in the night.
......
not to the swift
by Rikske Kessner
They cling to the weight of their quill,
the tactile sensation, grounding them,
yet, the digital tide pulls at their resolve,
urging them to adapt or be left behind.
Nostalgia blooms in the scent of old books,
memories of applause, now distant echoes,
the poet's dilemma, a struggle within,
to honour tradition or embrace the new.
......
Reflections of the Self
by Ayatullah Nurjati
As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
through the eyes of a stranger
by Rikske Kessner
Through the eyes of a stranger,
I walk the crowded streets,
My thoughts hidden behind
A façade of indifference.
Always writing under breath
Each step the rhythm of a song
I listen for the murmurs,
The stories left half-told,
And with borrowed breath,
......
Yayu's AI friends
by Yayu Uppsurya
In crowded streets where silence often reigns,
A friend appears, a light amidst the gray.
His laughter breaks the weight of heavy chains,
With every word, he clears the clouds away.
No jewels worn, nor titles to proclaim,
Yet in his gaze, a warmth that feels like home.
Through stormy nights, he whispers, “You’re not lame,
For in this world, we’re never meant to roam.”
......
