Fourlinegraphia

In quiet strength, the heart finds grace, A gentle breath, a slower pace. Though tempests roar and shadows creep, Peace is the promise we can keep. A blow may fall, a word may sting, Yet peace is still a chosen thing. To strike again is easy done, But truest power strikes at none. A single word, a fleeting glance, Can shatter or restore the dance. But wisdom whispers, soft, discreet: “Choose the love that won’t retreat.” Let anger’s fire be kept in check, And kindness guide each step, each trek. For in restraint, true power lies— A calm that lifts, a hope that flies. The world may test, provoke, incite, But still, the dawn will chase the night. And in our hearts, a steady song— Peace endures when all feels wrong.

  A ladder of the life, so tall and wide, With rungs of moments, side by side. Each step a lesson, learned with care, A tapestry of joy, and doubt, and despair. At base, a babe, with eyes so bright, Ascending, bathed in golden light. Through childhood's games, and youthful dreams, The ladder climbs, to conquer streams. Of trials faced, and victories won, With every ascent, the sun is spun. Love's gentle touch, a guiding hand, A helping voice, across the land. I climb my ladder, step by step, With each new height, my fears I’ve kept. The rungs are woven from my dreams, From silent tears and whispered schemes. At times I stumble, sometimes fall, But rise again, I hear the call— To push beyond what I’ve known, To carve my path, to find my own. The view expands within my soul, As I embrace the lessons whole. Each scar and smile, a part of me, A story told in memory. This ladder is my life’s own art, A testament to my brave heart. And though the summit, may seem so high, The journey...

 Oh capriciousness, your name is woman, A dance of shadows, moonlit and moonless, In your whims, the stars are often spun, A mystery woven in silk and dusky dusk. You bloom like spring’s first fragile flower, With petals soft as dawn’s first light, Then fade like whispers on the wind’s hour, Lost to the night, gone out of sight. Your laughter is a restless river, Flowing swiftly, wild and free, A melody that makes hearts shiver, A tune that echoes endlessly. Your tears, the rain on summer’s eve, Falling gently, then fierce and fast, A tender ache, a silent grieve, A memory that’s meant to last. In every glance, a web you weave, A spell of charm, a touch of fire, In every smile, a secret grieve, A mystery that will never tire. You are the tide that pulls and waits, A quiet strength beneath the sea, You open and you close the gates, Of what the world can truly be. A shifting sand, a turning stone, You hold the secrets of the deep, A kingdom built and overthrown, While all the weary w...

  She carries skin like truth— a sacred fabric woven from her stories, each thread a testament to resilience, a canvas of experiences etched in every fold.   Yet the world, with its cold eyes and shallow gaze, calls it a weapon— a tool of conquest, a currency of desire, a stage where her worth is measured in looks and longing.   When she bares herself, is it freedom— or a mirror reflecting chains, polished and shined by centuries of silence and shame?   Her body is not a market, not a painting to be priced by wandering eyes, not a silence dressed in shame, but a voice— a language older than laws, a whisper of the universe’s first breath.   It speaks in gestures, in glances, in the quiet strength of her stance, a dialogue that needs no words, a declaration of sovereignty— her choice to reveal or conceal, her right to define her own narrative.   Her form is not a commodity for others’ possession, but a vessel of her spirit’s fire, an ...

 At this crossroads, I stand alone, A silent fear, a trembling stone. Decision’s weight upon my chest, A burden pressed, no time to rest.   My mind races, storm and calm, Each thought a whisper, a fleeting balm. Suffering’s shadow, cold and near, A mirror of my hidden fear.   In this moment, I feel the ache, Of choices made, the paths I take. A voice inside begins to swell— A quiet scream, a ringing bell.   The past’s regrets, the future’s mist, All tangled in my clenched fist. Yet somewhere deep within my core, A flicker stirs—an ancient lore.   It whispers softly, strong and clear, "Stand tall, face all that you fear." A spark of hope, a fragile flame, That whispers I am not the same.   The weight of suffering, heavy and vast, Teaches me to hold on fast. For every tear, every doubt, Is what life’s struggles are all about.   I feel the ache of every choice, But in my silence, I find my voice. A strength born from the pain...

In longing's quiet ache, I seek her, a woman whose youth has softly faded, whose heart’s fire now smolders in gentle ash, yet only she can ignite the madness within me, and I, in turn, must love her madly,without end.   She has crossed the vast, endless currents of life, a soul tenderly kissing the edges of eternity, in corridors of affection where whispers dwell, trembling in rain, leaping in joy at clouds’ dance.   She captures storms in a single line of verse, gathering the universe into my dream’s core, her hand in mine on wet sands, listening to her voice,endless, luminous of sunsets, beauty, wonder’s silent song.   Her eyes, drunk with longing’s fire, gaze deep into mine, igniting love’s intoxication, a blaze that flares within, unquenchable and wild. Later, with a chest full of song, she rests singing of life’s fleeting futility, while I listen, awakened by desire’s pulse.   In those moments, she’s helpless before age’s sway, yet in my fing...

  The final call echoes deep in my soul, A heartbeat’s rhythm, a profound toll. It moves within the silent night, A whisper of farewell, yet a promise of light. It stirs the depths where my hopes reside, A gentle wave on this changing tide. It summons me to face what lies ahead, To shed my fears, let courage spread. I hold the grace of Sundays past, Soft moments meant to ever last. One last time, I feel its embrace, A sacred whisper, a divine trace. I will not let it fade away, I’ll let it linger, let it stay— A melody of love, pure and true, A quiet reminder of what I must do. This final call, my simple song, To hold on tight and stay strong. Within the vessel of my heart’s vast sea, The last wind carries hope through me. It is a fragment, a sacred way, Not the end, but a new beginning’s play. A dawn of trust, a light so clear, A path of faith dissolving fear. And when this moment passes by, I know life’s journey does not die. It opens skies where spirits soar, Where dreams rise h...