Her wave…

 By:- Romance

I admit,
I was afraid to love.
Not just love,
but to love her.
For she was a stunning mystery.
She carried things
deep inside her
that no one
has yet to understand,
and I,
I was afraid to fail
like the others.
She was the ocean
and I was just a boy
who loved the waves
but was completely
to swim.

Note: The copyrights on the article belong to the author. The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. 


Bangles of Bombay

I bought her the Bangles of Bombay,
Sleekly woven, delicately intertwined, and knitted soulfully,
Onto the hardened glass,
She gifted me her smile,
Celestially crafted, hypnotically bizarre and
yes, knitted skillfully,
Onto her hardened heart!


previously published in pwnbhtt

The Child

 By:- Stephen Fuller (S Francis)
June 19, 1986
Bullets pierce and echo the air
Villagers abandon their flaming homes
The king cannot see, only the Lord sees
Reasons do not matter as bloodshed begins
On a hilltop the one flag quivers in the wind
Tears pour into the Child’s innocent eyes
His brother has died in the flames of war-
Horror from what was once so grand
Unnoticed, underfoot our freedom drifts
We, sightless, block our ears from the Child’s wail
His father has died in the ocean of war
Only to be as us- free
The fire rages across the countryside
The Child is shot in his tears
The memory of his brother burns
The memory of his father drowns
One man fills his jars with tears
His son fills dreams with fears
Both are dead, burned by lead
Nothing left, there is no son
Nothing left, there is no village
At dawn the flames consumed the last morsel
On a hillside the one flag quivers
The stars shine, the bullets pierce the air
We bury the Child under the flag
His father would have won the flag
They bled too long for
A reason too wrong
Bullets pierce and echo the air
The village burnt to the ground
Does any flesh mourn the Child?
Oh Lord…
Reasons do not matter when innocence sheds blood.

The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. 

Message to the Despondent (SOC)

By: Jonathan Noble

You have been uniquely and wonderfully designed
Into an individual person of which there is no other
Nor has there ever been, nor will there ever be again;
And your self is of inestimable value
And immeasurable worth right now;
Do not give in to despair and despondency this day
Or any other day . . . God loves you
And someone else loves you, too!
Chances are you are valued by many people, in fact,
And you don’t have to change your face or language,
Your skin color or height, weight or sound of voice
To be the amazing person you are already as you!
And if you need to change your heart,
Then grab hold of love, peace and joy,
And especially hope and allow these to transform,
But don’t allow yourself to think you are a mistake
Because that in itself would be the worst mistake!
And whether you can quite see it right now or not,
You have meaning and purpose in life in this world,
A genuinely unique purpose no one else can fulfill;
Yes, you! The ‘you’ who you are, bright shining star!
And enjoy the world around you;
After all, it was finely crafted for you to truly enjoy,
Along with so many, many other people in your life!
No, don’t hide yourself away in some darkened hole;
Breathe in the Spirit and awaken your soul this day,
And begin to soak up Life in all its amazing grandeur!
You are worth it! Yes, you … You’re worth fulfillment!

Empty Me

-Pawan Bhatta

Cut me into pieces,

Take every part of me,

Into your world,

Your world,

Of colors,

Of civilization,

Of feelings,

Of care,

Of love,


Yeah, I don’t know what love is.

I feel no pain, no tears,

‘You have heart of the stone, very hard.’

You say all the time,

You’re right except in the time,

When I think of you all, whom you think I should care,

The left part dismantles inside,

Like thousand pins flowing through those arteries,

Through those veins,

That my nerves get twisted,

Making me unbearable to stand on my feet,

I don’t know if it’s same with the human heart?

But I’ve got no tears, no any communal word to recompense,

No, ‘Are you fine?’

No ‘Does it hurt?’

No ‘It’ll be alright.’

No ‘I love you’,


No social, just ‘Animal’,

Just as you presumed,

Now, sell them out,

Every Piece of me!!!

You’ll know, you’ll get nothing,

For I have nothing inside me,

I am empty,

I’m naïve….

Not entirely empty,

All you will find is some confusion,

But that’s also empty,

No any motive of confusion,

Still ‘some confusions’,

So much placed in me,

Like an asphalt,

Black, dirty, hardened,


You yourself will get confused,

Whether it’s me or the confusion you are seeking to sell out,

No feelings,

No love,

No pain,

No humor,

I’ve got nothing,

You’ll get nothing,

No, not even a penny.

Like those mechanical robots, I move,

Don’t I?

With some AI,

And some AFs,

 Artificial Feelings!!!

I could never harness those tears in me,

Those smiles and all those social behaviors you seek in me,

No, I could never get them,

With those AFs could I?

For I am a dead meat holding empty hopes,

Still breathing to find something inside me,

But all I could find is me still empty inside,

Forming a loophole of reflections,

And those reflections are making me unfathomable,

I’m lost,

There is no me inside me,

I am tangled,

So much inside me,

That, all those complaints,

And your obsessions,

Your discontents,

Never reaches me,

Or to the one who you think as me,

Real or vague,

I’m still this me,


If I actually am the ‘me’ you want inside me.

The copyrights on the article belong to the author. The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author.
Previously Published in Poetry And Etc…


By: Jonathan Noble

Tunnel vision obsession, fixation on your prey,
You hunt by day and night, in dark and light
To capture like an expert trapper your quarry,
And you can see nothing else, to left or right;
You have your target in sight as it takes flight,
And your mind is on nothing else but to bind
Your victim, however that may be; this is key
To your present situation: stanch infatuation,
And you’ll not be satisfied till you’re gratified
With having what you want, and it taunts you;
Like a frenzied train running thru your brain
Nothing else matters even as life batters you
On all sides; there is nothing else but this one;
And this is finally your only real possession:

Note: Previously published on noblethemes. The copyrights on the article belong to the author. The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author.