Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Many a mistake, I've made
But that need not necessarily be bad
Because, a lot I've learned
Whenever I've failed
I feel I can handle anything
And need to fear nothing
Because, I've seen the worst
Though I'm yet to see the best!

Many a mistake, I've made
To my struggles, you'll see no end
Often, do I trip and fall
In my court, never is the ball
But I'm slowly improving
My personality is developing
Yes, I haven't tasted success
But I'm certainly a work in progress!!

Many a mistake, I've made
But I know I'll come good
Only a matter of time
Please, give not a ****
About my past failures
See my improvements
Big and small
I rise after every fall!!

Many a mistake, I've made
But the world won't end
After all, life is up and down
And I'm definitely not alone
We all make mistakes
In fact, that's the best path to success
More important than learning what to do
Is learning what not to do!!

Many a mistake, I've made
But immensely, they've helped
I am battle-hardened
And will go to bed
Knowing I've done enough
To handle the rough
Soon, will the smooth come
Again, only a matter of time
I repeat, many a mistake, I've made
But ultimately, I've learned
That's all that matters
Thank you for your patience!!
Poem on my mistakes and how I've progressed since.
embedded in avatar’s
sequential chromosomes
novelspriteagelessBIRTHED
Soul protected       simultaneously                         PROTECTOR
free         _
_
ALL WAYS
yet ………superlatively
centred within ego’s           ATOMS :::: Rooted

sent abreast by Lord of Lords
for
      a glorious journey of dualism  
      fractalised on Mother Gaia
      to ascend    again       spire after spire
                                            ALONE
           without Rapunzel’s locks

flying on back of North Wind
                  or whichever carriage

                          juxtapositions to
meet unique evolutionary tasks
                    
Soul hears His voiceless voice
directing  f o o t s t e p s           s
                                                    p
                                                 a
                                              E
                                            L
                                    
jum
       Ps

sightless sees jutting rocks
languid lakes    barrier obstacles          
stormy seven seas

exuding all colour
                         COMPosIng
                  luminous WHITE to dungeon BLACK
yet
            colourlesstransparentcellophane
though
op-art  ||  check mate

                      both  KING and PAWN

soundlessly drumming beats
from 0hz to explosive BIG BANGS
up and down ladders
    w o o d  and   s  t. e. e. l.        
in depths of     blood
                                  less  states   VOID
                                
                             or

full-blooded beer cheers on stadiums
soccer balled || tennis raquetted || gym shoed
scream ecstatic Olympic     VICTORIES or
cry despair                           DEFEAT
                                          

silent   f e  r  o  c  i  t   ¥  
lies  inERT  birthing  ALERT at
b
   O
      T
         TOM   of  spine    w  a  i   T    i   Ng

to rocket shoot cracking all
seven wheels + codes
accessing HIGHER POWER SOCKETS
plugging in ~
                   dis
                        connect
                                       INg

dictating Heart rhythms
reigning in manipulations of mind
find Soul       where slugs crawl
                     where lions roar
                     where eagles glide
                     reclining in mitochondria
                    
find  footprints      when dawn breaks
                              into pink-peach DELIGHT
            when sun sets
                              as orange-magenta
                                                        AWE with whales sighing at dolphins leaping white
foam waves    ships sinking
sailorS DROWNING   sharks at          BAY
                                 South Pole cold
Equator hot
juxtapose that which you see with that
                        which you see NOT
jungle pygmies with North Saxon Aryan
gladiators
_embracing opposites
1.    2.
  10. begin again…

an empty frigid fridge
dollar-less petulant purse
sliding along limpid linearity
to full cream honey cocoa sherry
black bean cake on birthday blast                
                            
                   CAFÉ TABLE FOR TEN

marula animation
espresso exploring appetite ~
seek Soul breath in    museums
                                   discos
                                   art galleries
                                   leylines
                                   pyramid sarcophagus
                 sea shores + desert sands of
                         NO     MAN’s   LAND
          
   HOT   COLD   ROT  NOT  SOT  BOT

eat roti
starve          blink stink crawl toddle stand straight
sow
know

seek Soul also as it lies
ADORNED WITH DRIPPING BLOOD
on rampaged battlefields scathing
exposing gaping wounds of sorrow
bones cracked dust to dust
unborn children dying
as womb is turmoiled
WITH GUNSHOTS CRAZED
a lone butterfly **** sweat salt  
                                                  
    |||\                 - ribcage o Pen

duality encoded within
that which wakes to work
that which curls under quilt
that which says      ACT in
split-second speed
baby is about to   f
                              a
                                  l
                                     l

that which says      m  o  v  e   NOT   AT   ALL
Divine timing in    _ COMMANDING.FORCE
transparent walking blue naked

         Soul remains Master of Juxtaposition

in  ~ ALL ~ | avatars | frequencies | masks | pen-names | shades | subtitles | subtleties| tones | tints | translations….

                LIFE =  light shadow
                            dark essentials
                    yin-yang ~
                                      winter  
                                                  spring    
                                       summer  
                                                   autumn
                
       Dualism  :   ultimate strategic game-plan
                      =  canvas unframed

touch explore            ALL-GREAT
manifestations of          CONDUCTOR

                          HEART
                  Bride and Groom
                  
exotic mind-free quark + rocket + Sky
beating
heavingpurestillness.presence
                                   LEARN • TEACH ~

molten CENTRE OF VIOLET FLAMED                  VOLCANIC lava
prison cell >   POWER

beautiful mind   receptive tool
loyal servant like no other
body _ornamental vehicle
housing senses refined
lifetime after lifetime
I flip _
COIN
heads or tail ?

          juxtaposition     choice is a GAME
                of                    choose best card
              Soul                     use indigo intuition
                        
                all    designs   on    TABLE    if   YOU
                        have               E
ES        
                                               2  C   JUxpo

©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song2025
    

        <~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
Where in the world?!
What in the world?!

- Poseidon

How in the world?!
𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝?!
Why in the world?!

-Zeus

Wanna test it?!
Can we ¹perfect it?!

-Hades
1 - Perfect has many definitions and bares many different meanings, given the context.
GARDEN OF THE HEART

I am the Garden
In me all things live
In me nothing is forgotten
Here we enter
After being done with the Serpent
Flamed or in darkness
When the Cross enters from below
We die, never to be reborn

Over naked ******* and belly
Shadows dissolve in milk and manna
Transmuted to rainbows of gold
In the body of the Magdalena
Droplets dance fiery ice
Where Power is gained through
Entry into the Garden of the Heart
Another way then becomes the forgotten

Nothing more entices, no fleshly desire lingers
Wisdom is my key to the
Gate of Chrysanthemum Purity
Where Patience is enthroned at the
Fulcrum of two spheres
After we’ve climbed ladders of courage
Listened to mournful entreaties, tolling gongs
Shook hands with Keepers of Freedom

Our giving becomes our taking
Separation, the Union
The going, a Returning
Returning, our resting where the
Centre of Silvery Strands is Stillness
Born of angels and white doves
As Truth cloaks, after paying
In sweat and tight purple silences

Few know how the Garden imbues
Or how minds of politic dissolved or
What a tiny imprint is hidden in the
Palm of Goddess-God where the
Palm of Blood and Thorns
Washed us from the shores of
Ancient Khoisan lands into the
Moistness of Infinity’s filigree

©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Song
BRIDGE

The bridge between our hearts
as fine as spiderweb threads
along it soldiers march,
workers trample, children skip
with ***** of light
cows graze, horses gallop

Between our hearts the bridge
is held by the Tree of Life
sung over by rain
its roots tangled
in the molten centre of
Mother Earth

Below it gurgles River of Intentions
on the banks rural maidens
with feathers in their plaits
play reed flutes
lilies grow in its crevices
whilst dragonflies sweetly hum

African mothers sing rhymes
whilst suckling fat babies
spiders delicately continue
to weave below trodden cobbles

I longingly listen for the trample
of your brown leather boots on
the other side of the bridge !

©GhairoDanielsPoetry2018
Zywa Jul 2
You have to look back

now and then to catch a glimpse --


of where you're going.
For Lotte W, Madelief dK and Paul J, with a photo of him in a rowboat (1980, Ahaus)

Collection "Local traffic"
Parisha May 26
Once a day, thoughts of QUITTING,
It was ages before or is it just me who aged?
Hearing whispers—
"Oh girl! Don't overthink, you're just a child."
But... how did this girl learnt to feel this way?

Back in days, this messy, inactive Angel…
She made mistakes and advancements at the same time.
Following her years with Covid-19,
Grew an ache of anger with a belief that—
The world was completely against her.

Then that day, when tears fell…
Wait—were those the thoughts of the overthinker me again?
And that was the time I recognised
Myself, with numerous talents to shine.

Today, an orator, poet, painter—she transformed.
But never gained the courage to own the title of best person.
She changed me, my young self, but…
Why is it me writing all these things as a memory of guilt again?
Maybe… it’s just me who aged—
Not my guilt.

-Parisha
Something you can guess i think... Well, it's about me if anyone's wondering
Sliding of beads
So therapeutic
To see how this became that
What makes up the whole
                           Touch each fraction

No need for equation of form
To find value of one emotion
                               Against a known
Or
Tangents
Or
Ometries
When the only calculus of interest
                                    Is sum of self
Aaron Beedle Mar 19
Forgive the failings of the parent, the flaws of our design.
Only if we accept our nature can we enjoy what's left of our time.

The poison left in our blood, corrosion of the self,
pain accepted as a norm, obligations on no one else.
They say the mind is the strongest prison,
walls of darkness and chasms within them,
and a fear that pain came first because pain comes always,
and as we peep out into the empty hallways
we see in their endless doors
and infinite capacity for more
and why would any weary traveller
step out into such foreboding
places to explore?

At first the poison seems for life. It runs in our blood and rains from the heights.
But nothing is without cost and the lie must be maintained.
We follow the orders held with us from the day we got our name.
But the thicker the poison and the hotter it burns, the stronger the antidote and the more we can learn.

Pain becomes progress,
a diabolical fuel,
a tool heavy to swing,
but one that will bring
greater transformation.
So let's turn bad memories
into useful information.
About: How suffering and hardship gives us the knowledge to make the world a better place.
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
Hope is for the hopeful
pain is for the hurt
fear is for the child inside
sweat is for the work
song is for the listener
and voices for the listened
Home is for where love resides
only found inside.
In the images we create,
we ****** a part away from fate.

In each act we are alive
and in between our quiet minds
will find some reason we are silent
thoughts turned dark, thoughts turned violent.

Prayer for the faithful
soaring for the soul
how can we bestow these gifts
isn't that the goal?
Not to ask the bird to fly,
the wolf to bear its claws,
but to ask the kind to fight
and the killer to know remorse.

To change one mind might seem so modest
of a billion minds on the planet,
But even to change a single mind
would improve the world that we inhabit.
Next page