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.
......
why do you seek the living among the dead?
by Bogdan Dragos
The old lady kept coming by
the hospital to assure the medics that it'll be
okay
"He's a true fighter," she said. "I know he'll make it.
He has won the battle with drugs
twice in the past. He'll make it this time as well. I
know it. I feel it. I believe in him."
"Mam," said the doctor. "We found rusty fragments
......
A Prodigal Soldier of Words
by Hébert Logerie
I am a prodigal son of a gun
Who fears nothing under the sun
I am a brave and defiant soldier
I am a peaceful gladiator
My pencil is my sword
My pen is my deadly weapon
I write one word at a time, one word
Which can destroy their plan
My pen is like a machine gun
An M16, which spits with a lot of fun
......
a very skilled assassin
by Bogdan Dragos
The way she'd creep up on you
and just appear
from behind like some cat,
you'd think she
was some trained assassin or something
I felt her punch
my shoulder and then her
other hand falling on
my nape and squeezing
......
alive today
by Bogdan Dragos
there was a new guy in the park
among the homeless
He arrived just after the mayor had
eradicated all
the tents and improvised huts
and it was easy to spot him
He was the one who
always had a book in his hand, always
......
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.”
......
