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I know I was drawn to coming here                                                             ­                                               
to a dark room with a mind to
clear                                                            ­                                                  
                                                                ­                                                      
I need some time to think about me                                                               ­                                            
                                                                 ­                                              
And find out what my life needs to be                                                               ­                                                          
 I have a habit of blaming myself                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                             
    Give all my love to everyone else                                                             ­                                                
   So, what I have been repressing                                                                  ­                                                
Has bubbled up & effervescing                                                     ­                                         
A hard battle that I have to win                                                              ­                  
                                                                ­                                                  
   Am I worthy of self-forgiving?                                                                     ­                                                 
    It's time to let all the past go   
                                                                ­                                               
Less ebb & much more flow
You are an ammunition, in every way,
No weapons required, just your presence will sway.
Your smile, a missile, soaring high
No distance can hinder its impact, my heart will die.

Your words, like bullets, pierced my soul,
Each shot, a memory which will haul.
In the cartridge of your kisses, I find sweet delight,
Every shot, a thrill, in the depths of the night.

You gaze like a torpedo, hits with force unseen,
Leaving me numb and serene.
And those sharp eyes of yours, like explosives they ignite,
Captures my heart, I will invite.

You're the propellant, igniting this fire,
Setting my world ablaze, with a burning desire.
And in your embrace, I find my warhead,
Ready to surrender, in this love we embed.

So let's embrace this warfare, with love as our guide,
For in the midst of chaos, with you, I abide.
No need for guns, pistols or bombs, I proclaim.
Reaching your heart was the only aim.

By
Sanji-Paul Arvind
kris Mar 24
The gallop of horses against the ground,
The cries of men heard all around.
Their shields up and armor clashing,
Arrows and swords ready for lashing.

“Onward!” My king cried out,
Though our hearts were filled with doubt
Noticing fear and hesitation, my King turned and gently said,
“Friends, do not fret nor fear.”

“Dost thou think I am unafraid?
If so, my guise does betray.
My heart is filled with worry and despair,
Hidden by this armor I wear.”

“I am afraid of tomorrow
For what if that day only brings sorrow?
Yet, I am here, with all of thee;
By one voice, we all agree.”

“There is still good in this world–
The goodness of men still preserved.
Acts of kindness here and there,
And love spread everywhere.”


“For those with me, ride!
Raise your swords and put up your arms!
For though darkness shall rule this day,
We shall keep it at bay!”

As my King rode to battle, we were at His side.
From our mouths, proud voices we cried.
The sun’s rays shone through the gray;
My King was the one who led the way.

He proclaimed with a strong voice,
“Onward, men of bravery! Onward!
For on this day, we shall rejoice!
We shall not fear but fight forward!”
I read "The Charge of the Light Brigade" and wanted to write  my own version. I also took inspiration from the Lord of the Rings movies, particularly the part where Aragorn gave his speech at the Black Gate.
Throughout the day
Your smile shines through,
It is precious,
And it is True.

A sweet soul lies beneath
Gleaming even when there's rain,
Yet even your smile fades,
Seeing you hurt brings me pain.

Be the sword that saves the day,
Be the shield that stops the blade,
Be the shelter when it rains,
And when it's sunny, be the shade.

Protect your smile,
For it is precious.
And save your soul,
For it is so sweet.
Unlike my other poems, this one is not to someone I love, it's to a person who is like a daughter to me, it is an important distinction!
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
One notch and straight, decided fate.
Then loose and look, another's took.
A visor up, one on the floor
the naive put it up to four.
The boulder crash
and rip of leather
the quiver's gone but not
too slow
comes back the bow
and arrow tip,
and tearing through
a savage eye
that's number five that he decides.
But now another's tagged his throat
and down he goes, and so he knows,
that its not smart to mess about
with sticks and stones and long bows.
About: An archer in a battle.
Piyush Mar 15
Lying in my bed, and I can't sleep,
There are too many thoughts running deep.
I don’t know how to make them fade,
It’s a battle within that can't be swayed.

I’ve done everything wrong, not a **** thing right,
I close my eyes, yet they stay open wide.
Am I lost, or am I broken?
A question left unspoken.

I write on empty pages so they might feel whole,
I wonder—if I spoke, could I fill my soul?

Have you ever wondered why stars shine at night?
When all is dark, do you still need light?
I think they’re the battle scars of the sky,
A thousand paper cuts before it dies.

I believe something hides behind the dark,
Consuming it slowly, leaving its mark.
I think the night sky is an armor,
Shielding us from the bright demon,
Waiting to collect us in the cruel morning.

They feed on our hearts, our souls like fuel,
Yet these are just theories I cannot prove.
Still, there’s a line that rings true:
"Dark is not scary; dark is poetry."
Some thoughts and some poetry—I hope you like it.
Mary Apr 14
Your life is an interrupted story,
No more than short-term blaze of glory.
It’s a metaphor that hits heavily,
‘Cause you’re your perfect mortal enemy.

Tunnel vision hides altered reality,
Your mind took up self-destructive morality,
Each feeling you’ve got is as deep as the ocean,
You lie to yourself that it cannot be poison.

When stars explode, the light is healing,
As it’s all dark you crush the ceiling.
You feel chills going down the spine,
You’re burning out, lost track of time.

And there’s no scream, it’s a silent battle.
It is vain to fix something that’s fatal.
You’ll never know why dead divine
Still haunts you and whispers: «You are borderline»
Asher Feb 14
Once a hand held me,  
now I rust in silent dirt,  
spikes dulled by lost wars.
Vianne Lior Feb 18
Shells whisper of time,
Fathers weep for fallen sons,
Words dissolve in dust.

Steve Page Feb 12
I miss my little brother. Especially at harvest. He was a hard worker – strong back and long reach. The kind of brother you want around.

‘Course, there was much more to him than strength and size. His art demonstrates that. He used to love experimenting with oils in his down time and had a knack for vivid battle scenes.

They say you paint what you know and not a year went by when he wasn’t called up for service. They would come to the farm to say the king needed him, and there was no refusing that call.

What he saw on the front line haunted him. So much was expected of him of course, but I think we overestimated his ability to cope with the ordeal of combat. Folk mistook his stature for a propensity for violence that needed release. We knew different. He was happier in the fields.  

I heard dad talking with him while he painted. It was clear my brother knew the value of a champion. The lives saved. The men who got to go back to their farms and families. The gods had gifted him, dad said. But when I see his canvases, that’s where I see the gift. Lasting reminders of the trauma that lesser men can wrought. Reminders of the suffering one man can save us from.

I miss Goliath.
There are always 2 sides to a story.
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