Promises Poems
People's Voice at the End of Twilight
by Ayatullah Nurjati
at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.
Behind the glitter of the bustling city, they are overlooked in a gloomy shadow of silence and peace. The voices of the people who are tired of screaming, reaching for justice which is increasingly difficult.
Burned by empty promises, but still hopeful in wounded hope.
Dusk turns into dark night, But the voice never went away. In the hearts of those who continue to groan, there is a prayer that strengthens the weary soul.
Promises
by Mykah Cea
Cross my heart, hope to die,
Stick a needle in my eye.
A swarm of paper lanterns is suspended by evening warm air.
As a summer blizzard, they shine brighter than gold.
We promised one day, we'd shine brighter.
On her mossy bed, lithe clusters of lavender brush her satin skirt.
Like her, their violet crowns are dusted in pollen and starlight.
......
Excerpts from Life
by Saleh Ben Saleh
My mind had often wondered of a world beyond our hold,
where every soul reveals its secrets and all the truth untold.
With age our youth will fade,
and with hope our lives ignite.
In a withered cage the soul remains,
till the day that brings delight.
Promises made are hard to keep,
but in honour I find my pride.
......
weedkillers
by Red Brick Keshner
at that tender age when one still believed
openly bleeding wounds make for devotion
cut skin, draw blood, covenanting together
all through the years of getting to know you
always being the only one to be weeded out
Drifting
by Sihle Mjobo
What are we?
Damaged souls,
Museums for lost innocence?
Experiences’ consequence ?
Looking through wise eyes
Yet it still eludes us.
What is it?
That we fail to recognise
In seasonal soulmates
......
People's Voice at the End of Twilight
by Ayatullah Nurjati
at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.
Behind the glitter of the bustling city, they are overlooked in a gloomy shadow of silence and peace. The voices of the people who are tired of screaming, reaching for justice which is increasingly difficult.
Burned by empty promises, but still hopeful in wounded hope.
Dusk turns into dark night, But the voice never went away. In the hearts of those who continue to groan, there is a prayer that strengthens the weary soul.
Excerpts from Life
by Saleh Ben Saleh
My mind had often wondered of a world beyond our hold,
where every soul reveals its secrets and all the truth untold.
With age our youth will fade,
and with hope our lives ignite.
In a withered cage the soul remains,
till the day that brings delight.
Promises made are hard to keep,
but in honour I find my pride.
......
Drifting
by Sihle Mjobo
What are we?
Damaged souls,
Museums for lost innocence?
Experiences’ consequence ?
Looking through wise eyes
Yet it still eludes us.
What is it?
That we fail to recognise
In seasonal soulmates
......
weedkillers
by Red Brick Keshner
at that tender age when one still believed
openly bleeding wounds make for devotion
cut skin, draw blood, covenanting together
all through the years of getting to know you
always being the only one to be weeded out
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by Adam Bowmanasdf
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