There is paint painted on me
It is a kind of paint that whose pigment can dust
And cause a different kind of stain on you
If and when;
You glide on me,
You lean on me,
And colide with me.
I keep myself away because of that difference
So as to avoid such kind of confusion
"You treasure what's yours but again confuse it"
Eager to prove me wrong but will you believe me?
Give ears to listen to the different kind of story!
The story that makes my paint that way.
Will you distinguish and help me see
If there's that I don't see that I should
Yet you shouldn't always expect that
"There must be something you see that do not"
The truth is You never know whether I looked further
Further than your eyes made there sight
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Though even so
How much can you make up from those two statements
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Or is it that I am the foolish one and,
Don't deserve to sit amongst you
Just because I have a different opinion.
Time heals love's wound,
Truth seals it round.
Feeling a bit scaly
and my usual fleet-footed
I followed a lizard
into an evaporating wash --
somehow, all living critters
eventually enter the wash -- the
lizard looking for insects, and the
coyote looking for lizards
and to drink from a puddle
of water -- more like
a thimble full, the sun reclaims
quickly when 120 -- dwellers learn
to conserve, survive on less
in the desert; did not see
one environmentalist though;
probably in a comfy college
dorm, or staff lounge, sipping ice-tea,
writing his or her next hit piece, main
focus on how he or she suffers along with
a greatly abused planet. Gulp, gulp!
Honestly, I prefer the company of lizards,
coyotes, and an occasional rattler -- always
having found the desert far more hospitable
than Arid intellect.
Artist, please yourself above all others ~
for the sin of praise, the truth is smothered
I like nature;
it is calm.
It has its truth
that I want.
The truth I search for in every soul,
not the masks I get to see
but the hidden faces I want to know.
I once had a mask.
It feeds you lies to keep it alive.
But being alive doesn’t matter
if it hunts you down
and burns your soul on the inside.
Because you think the outside
wears a disguise,
but with the clock ticking
it shows your cries —
shows the world how helpless you are,
and then the mask doesn’t help you at all.
So be like nature,
be its calm.
Grow yourself how you want.
Find the people who love the truth
and show you, with every heartbeat,
their love for you.
Truth is an orphan
alone in the wind
License for others
who hide from within
Facing the storm
without fear or excuse
A guardian steps forward
— with hope to infuse
(To Charlie Kirk: September, 2025)
Love constantly exudes from His heart
Omnipotence marks His being from the start
Redeemer is He, vanquishing evil’s dart
Deliverer Who assures us His triumphant part.
You were there when the dark
crept loud through the door,
when my tears made small rivers
that stained to your core.
You never once left me,
you never once frowned,
you just held my silence
till sleep came around.
Your fur is all matted,
your seams pulled apart,
but I know every thread
is stitched into my heart.
Others see fabric,
old stuffing, worn eyes
but they don’t see the love
that your silence implies.
I’ve told you my secrets,
the ones I can’t say,
and you guard them so tightly
they won’t slip away.
You’re my courage, my anchor,
my shield, my safe place,
the first thing I reach for
when life feels unsafe.
One day they will tell me,
“You’re older—move on.”
But you’ll never be gone, Bear,
you’ll never be gone.
Even if I outgrow you,
and tuck you away,
you’ll live in the child
who still needs you each day.
So I’ll whisper a promise
to your threadbare old ear:
wherever I wander,
I’ll keep you near.
For you’re more than soft fabric,
more than my toy
you’re the keeper of childhood,
my comfort, my joy
The term real estate
A false one, perhaps.
If so, why is his grave
Owned by the state?
Luckily, Heaven
If not Hell
Is the only ground
That truly belongs
To every soul and all
-Dharga Nagar Safa
Short
is most sweet
when the sugar
is pure
Its message
like honey
when added
to lure
The Mime
as your server
with candy
implied
Truth
in the tasting
its richness
— to hide
(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)
I thought to measure love...
Then thought, what heart
puts a limit on the heart?
Does a mother tell a child
not after breakfast
only till noon
after tucking, on you own?
darling I love you
after sex, no hugging
I thought to measure love
then thought
Love, need never to be thought
Love, need not ever be sought
Just Love....
In the midst of no man’s land
In the town of my birth
Once I dreamed of sea and sand
Sitting on the granite earth
A lot of water has flown under
All the bridges where I stood
Looking down, caught up in wonder
It was real and too good
A lot of time has passed since then
At the sea resorts I’ve stayed
Walked upon all kinds of sand
Picked up shells along the way
Dreams of sea come out fulfilled
Love’s another dream I had
It came true and stayed until
Came the time of which I read
That it comes all of a sudden
Unexpected like the rain
On a sunny day in town
Where my love lived, and remains
Dreams turn real and vice versa
This reality’s a dream
In the ash of its dispersal
Over sea and sand I’ve seen.
Like boats that float upon the ocean wide,
We dwell within this world, yet not its tide.
The vessel sinks when water finds its way,
So too our souls, if worldly winds betray.
We are in the world, but not of worldly mold,
Our citizenship in heaven we uphold.
To guard our hearts from shipwreck and despair,
We must control desire and be aware.
Emotions yield to God’s communion deep,
Where Father’s wisdom wakes us from our sleep.
We gain His view - heaven’s perspective true -
And see beyond what earthly eyes construe.
By Word of our testimony, we arise,
Anchored in Truth that never sinks nor dies.
Truth trips the tongue mid-stage
the mask cracks in the glare,
applause feeds on the lie
failure wears a spotlight.
youth fades with truth
truth holds the proof
smooth words uncouth
truth hides the proof
uncouth truth
All that is manifest, is doomed to die
and is therefore merely a lucid dream,
wherein attachments cause our heart to sigh,
separated from truth by thoughts that stream.
God absolute exists beyond space-time,
which is our home too, as the light of Self,
beheld in the gap betwixt bliss beat’s chime,
when no agenda remains on our shelf.
This truth now known, we must maintain focus,
recognising we’re not this body-mind
and remaining still along love’s locus,
prayerfully become divine aligned.
God dwells in the heart, let us heed His call ~
That we are living light, here now recall
Specific Types of Truth Poems
Definition | What is Truth in Poetry?
Poems Related to Truth
truthfulness, legitimacy, veracity, certainty, principle, authenticity, fact, accuracy, truism, nitty gritty, maxim, facts, verisimilitude, factualness, score, actuality, axiom, rectitude, picture, dope, precision, genuineness, perfection, factuality, gospel