To be nice — is it not an act performed? An outward manifestation on a stage called society. Yet there’s more, so much beneath the surface, Beneath those smiles we offer to strangers. Niceity without courage fails in purpose, I stand here and I declare: It’s not enough just being kind; You…

I have always been a puzzle, A labyrinth of thoughts, with hidden corners And secret passageways that lead to the heart. You are too. We all are. We stumble through life, Searching for meaning in every piece – The colors and shapes swirling together like galaxies; Endless patterns within our reach…

In the beginning, there was the word — a phantom limb gesturing toward a horizon, I am tethered to this alphabet soup of ink and thought. You are here. In-between letters shaping our cacophony. A literary debut, they say: emergence from obscurity, an unveiling in chiaroscuro hues — a dance where…

💚 Get unlimited access to Poetry on Medium — It’s not about the noise, it’s about the silent appreciation that comes with every applause. The Power of Poetry how to submit?medium.com Poetry is everywhere, but the question is, 🟢 how much do you love it? Are You the Next Big Poet? Drop Your Poem in the Comments! Share Your Words Today! Submit your work, engage with fellow poets, and start your journey in this vibrant space of…open.substack.com

Listen, a loyal friend is not the moon. It can’t hang in your isolated air to mark phases of isolation or renewal; there are no harvest tides between us. No oceans sway under its pull here on this solid ground with our feet tethered by gravity’s affectionate hold. Just as…

Anthology of the Power of Poetry — Dear Esteemed Poets, I am writing to express my deepest gratitude for your invaluable contributions to “The Power of Poetry” anthology. Your words have not only enriched this collection but have also illuminated the lives of our readers with their brilliance and depth. Your mastery of language and emotion has…

I am, you are. We both stand in the world of grays, a palette saturated with veils over black and white clarity. Neither a swan-dipped hue nor the sweep of crow’s wing; not an absolute — it is this spectral midpoint we sing. Gray- here I invite you into its…

Eyes piercing outward — those looking glasses. Such are not wanderers adrift in directionless thought, a dream-state we associate with sleep. These eyes see more than mirrored reflections playing on surfaces glittering and gleaming; they interpret snapshots of existence taken every moment pulsating by. You gaze yonder — their focus…

You are the answer I’ve been seeking, In you, my thoughts have found a calming pace. Like leaves on trees after first spring rain. I’ve spent countless moments in this search. Through joys and sorrows marking life’s terrain And along worn paths of deep contemplation. …