Fourlinegraphia

  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...