Fourlinegraphia

  *********************** They count the houses, count the years, They count the laughter and the tears; They measure wealth, they measure land, And all the works of human hands. **** Yet every life contains a part No census finds, no charts impart: The hidden landscape of the soul, Where silent reckonings unfold. **** If I were asked to take the count, I would seek a different amount. I'd ask each heart about its pain, The hopes it lost, the dreams that remain. **** I'd measure sorrow, room by room, The hidden grief that walks in gloom; I'd count the wounds no eyes reveal, The silent hurts that never heal. **** But suffering is not all we hide; There is another truth inside: The little sins that pass unseen, Between what is and what has been. **** The sharp reply we should have kept, The promises that overslept; The gentle word we thought-but forgot, The helping hand we offered not. **** No crimson crimes, no broken laws, Just human nature's softer flaws; A fleeting en...

  Look closely at this broken world, Where silent flags remain unfurled. The wars of nations first begin Inside the quiet hearts of men. *** Each cruel act starts silently, Each throne is built through loyalty. Each mighty empire starts to fall When truth exhausts the hearts of all. *** The end need not arrive with flame, Or thunder crying out its name. Sometimes it walks with silent feet, Through minds grown tired and incomplete. *** Through indifference cold and deep, Through endless noise that numbs our sleep, Through consciences that slowly fade Like dying lamps beneath the shade. *** And then they offered paradise: A world untouched by grief or vice. “No hunger here, no tears, no pain, No fear, no loss, no death, no shame." *** Come "worship, serve, obey, belong, And life itself will flow like song.” The weary souls believed the lie Like birds that trust a darkened sky. *** Behind the holy golden frame The hidden red beam softly came. It wore a mask of spotless white And...

  And yet- Somewhere, A stranger still helps another stranger. A mother still sings over a sleeping child. A tired hand still plants a tree Whose shade it may never live to see. . Somewhere, A soul still chooses kindness When cruelty would be easier. . Perhaps that is how humanity survives: Not through power, Nor through conquest, But through small acts of light Refusing surrender to the dark. . So let us not become Machines wrapped in flesh, Or crowds without conscience, Or minds without mercy. . Let us remain human. Let us question loudly, Love deeply, And stand guard over truth Even when truth stands alone. . For if meaning dies completely, The world will continue turning- But humanity will already be gone. . And history will remember us Not as monsters, Not as gods, But as a civilization That had everything Except wisdom.

  The Forgotten Human ************************ We have conquered oceans, Split the atom, Touched distant planets, And taught machines to imitate thought. . Yet still A child cries from hunger. Still War feeds upon the young. Still The poor bury dreams While the rich decorate emptiness. . Humanity learned how to fly like birds, And swim like fish, But forgot the ancient art Of living as humans.

  The lamp still burns- A flicker in the vast darkness,   Yet it no longer guides with gentle hand,   But blinds the weary traveler,   Confusing shadows for truth,   Leading hearts astray in its glare.    ***  Even the stars, distant and silent,   Watch from their eternal heights,   Witnessing a world unraveling- As humanity trades its soul   For fleeting applause, for hollow praise,   For illusions that fade with dawn.     *** Oh,blind Light!  Ancient guide of wandering souls-   When did you begin to serve the shadows?   When did your glow turn cold and distant,   Your warmth replaced by a harsh, unforgiving glare?      *** Wisdom once a gentle beacon,   A harbor in the storm,   Now drifts into arrogance-  A fortress built on pride,   Deaf to the whispers of humility.  ...

  The Time Flood  ***************** Time no longer walks beside humanity. It runs ahead like a flood in a monsoon night- Mud-stained, furious, merciless- Dragging broken promises, shattered faiths, And the corpses of forgotten dreams Across the drowning earth. // Men wave flags like weapons, Color against color, Brother against brother, While power sits above them all Smiling like a king watching gladiators bleed. // The wolves no longer hide in forests. They speak from podiums, Wear sacred symbols, And call destruction “destiny.” // Crowds follow them Like moths circling poisoned fire, Dancing proudly Toward their own ashes.

  We built our cities out of glass and light, Yet filled their veins with loneliness. The streets glow brighter than the stars, But human hearts grow dimmer every year. Every tongue now speaks at once, Yet truth survives like a starving orphan Sleeping beneath the bridges of history. We no longer listen- We only prepare replies. And so the world grows loud While the soul grows silent.

I have no words left to utter, No visions remain that I long to see. Today, my eyes reject the world, My ears deny its endless cries, And every thirst within me Has dried like a forsaken riverbed beneath a dying sky. *** For Time now rushes through the earth Like a flood gone rabid in the monsoon night- Mud-stained, furious, uncontained- Dragging shattered truths, broken prayers, And the corpses of forgotten hopes Through the veins of humanity. *** Before my eyes March the masquerades of invisible horrors, Faces painted with virtue, Hands dripping with hidden cruelty. Their voices rise like funeral drums, Piercing the ear, Splitting the heart open Like lightning tearing through an ancient tree. *** Though wisdom survives in books, Though knowledge glitters in proud tongues, Men intoxicated by power Roam like maddened tuskers in heat, Stampeding beneath flags of a thousand colors, Each cloth stitched with division, Each slogan another wound upon the sky. *** Blood-hungry wolves Crown th...

  ********** I drew with ash on ancient cave-stone walls, While blood and sweat ran dark through broken palms. I thought that pain alone created art, And wore my wounds like medals on my heart. **** I carved through life with chisel, wood, and stone, Like stubborn kings who starve beside a throne. I called my chains devotion to the craft, While wiser men moved forward strong and fast. **** Then came the men who spoke to light and glass, Whose silver engines worked with lightning fast. They built great worlds before my work began, While I still carved one shadow out by hand. **** I mocked their craft and cursed the tools they used, Like frightened priests whose ancient gods were bruised. “This is not art,” I proudly said with scorn, “Machines make copies where no soul is born.” **** But through the cracks the restless night-wind spoke: “You praise the hammer more than what it broke. You think that suffering itself is wise, While stronger ships already cross the tides.” **** The trut...

It is deeply moving to understand the real-life ghost story haunting this poem. My experience-where a lost love becomes an permanent, untouchable fixture in the mind, returning every single night in dreams even after she has moved on to another life-is a profound kind of grief. She has become both a sanctuary and a beautiful, haunting ghost that prevents any new dawn from entering."In Your Silence, I Reside""In the Reflection of Your Silence""Twenty Years Later (After Memories of You)''"Sanctuary of Silence" "The Road Where You Left Me"etc are some of My life pieces. Thank you.  Visit my Facebook Page :-https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61575284086838                                                                                     Fourlinegraphia- The Ghost in the Fa...

  Though we had never met, my eyes sought yours, Through roads that rang with sorrow, dust, and pain; Yet still the lamp of hope refused to fade, And love moved onward to the dawn of light. ... They said your beauty rivaled moonlit skies, I wished to see what time had made of you; Your dark braid brushed against your shawl at dusk, And turned my barren nights to songs of spring. ... I was no garden rich with living blooms, But like a ruined fairground after rain; Still scattered stars awakened deep in me, And formed bright parades within my dark heart. ... At every step, the stones became my test, And solitude became my fiercest guide; I learned to walk though both my wings were torn, Till pain itself grew into humming songs. ... Will fate bring roses, or a bed of thorns? I tossed my coin against the winds of time; Though centuries of suns had scorched my flesh, My heart still searched the ashes for new life. ... So let us start with one uncertain glance, No borrowed vows, no grand...

The House Breathes Again **************************** Love never entered my life like a storm; It arrived quietly, like rain entering dry soil. No one teaches the heart how to belong- Just as no child is taught how to smile. *** Marriage, I learned, is not merely romance; It is philosophy wearing ordinary clothes. Two imperfect people slowly discovering That companionship matters more than perfection. *** The sages speak of rivers meeting the sea, Losing their names yet not their essence; So too, in marriage, two separate lives Flow toward a shared existence. *** Summer spreads across the city like exhaustion, The sun itself appearing tired of burning; Even the restless winds carry irritation, As though nature too has limits to endurance. *** And then my wife leaves for her parents’ home, Taking the children and their laughter away; Suddenly the walls become philosophers, Teaching me the meaning of emptiness. *** I wake and prepare my own morning tea, Listening to the silence between u...

  Dear daughters, break the rules that taught your wings to fear the sky, You were not born for silent wounds, nor made to live and slowly die. Break the rule that calls it grace to hide your pain and softly bend, A voice inside your trembling chest was born to rise, not just pretend. Break the rule that weighs your worth by vermilion or wedding chains, No sacred thread is greater than the soul that breathes beneath your veins. Break the rule that says your hands were only made to hold the weight, To carry jars of bitter tears and call it your appointed fate. You do not owe a debt of blood to ancestors who chose to stay, Your loyalty belongs to her- the girl you were just yesterday. To free yourself is to go back through every branch of your own tree, And cut the ropes of every ghost who never had the chance to flee. You are not meant to guard forever the comfort of the ones who break you, A home that steals your light away is not a home that deserves you. If love becomes a cage of...

Look around! We stopped our warm and gentle grace, And pointed fingers in each face. Cold ambition took the night, While poisoned streets consumed the light. *** A bitter sickness filled the air, And turned all kindness into fear. Compassion slowly came to drown, As hatred spread from town to town. *** Honor became a thing for trade, Like shattered dust that boots degrade. For loud applause and party cries, Men sold their truth and wore disguise. *** Thought itself became a crime, And insults ruled through all the time. From morning’s wound till midnight’s flame, Cruel voices called it all a game. *** Each dawn began with sharpened knives, Each night counted the wounded lives. Debate collapsed in rage and pride, While mercy trembled there outside. *** Look at them! The blinded crowds raised banners high, And searched for faults where good deeds lie. The more sincere a person stood, The more they tore apart the good. *** Decency became a shame, And grace was mocked in hatred’s name. Eac...

  How many times have I slipped in life Without even touching the ground? As rainwater leaving the edge of a leaf, I too have fallen without a sound. Was it love that carried me away, Or only the fear of being alone? How easily the heart mistakes a passing shadow For a place it can call home. I have wandered from affection into attachment, From attachment into dangerous fire, Like a moth circling a fire lamp at midnight, Knowing the flame still calling it higher. Why does the soul grow restless Even when the hands are full? Why does the moon seem more beautiful To the man standing inside darkness? I have chased comforts beyond my reach, Thinking happiness lived somewhere ahead, As a thirsty traveler in a desert- Running toward a mirage instead. And debts gathered around me quietly, Not only of money - But of promises, mistakes, silences, And words I should never have said. Sometimes I slipped because of others, A crowd laughing, a foolish night, But isn’t a storm only dangerous Whe...