If your voice holds no flame, just the echo of night,
A hollow refrain with no spark to ignite,
Then let the stillness rise, let the quiet remain—
For a word without fire is a breath without name...
Then let the stillness rise, let your whispers take flight,
For the dark cannot teach, and the void gives no light...
And if your words burn, but they blaze for your name,
A wildfire of pride that consumes without aim—
Then hush now, my soul, lest you fan your own shame,
For the self-willed are dust, and their embers betray.
Speak not for the sake of the sound in your chest,
But to carry the light that the Heavens have blessed.
For the lips that confess with no hunger, no awe,
Are but shadows that dance on a temple’s cold wall.
Oh, speak with the light or surrender to Grace,
Let the Divine fill the unspoken space.
For the holiest tongues know when to be still,
When silence is worship, when love is the will.
Oh, the Divine fire glows,
Where the humble heart goes,
In the quiet, it shows—
More than speech knows.
I postponed being amazed by time, a traveler without aim,
Until, before my soul could die, I learned,
That all that aches has dissipated like smoke under the silver moon,
A flock and a shepherd, shadows of a long-forgotten tale.
Whoever places my bare and fragile bones in an envelope,
Will write a letter of my cowardly and humble feelings,
The black angel, ruling over all that love touches,
Forbids your bleeding heart the wellspring that cries.
Bandaged with a death buried in the stretching future,
The eternity of the moment hides in the despair that surprises us,
The tears of my life, wilted fortune floods you,
The universe in my inspired soul seeks to hide away.
To our earthly life, I give an imponderable and gentle meaning,
Your perfection, my love, only you make it seem without pain,
You are the one who will birth my steps into eternity, forever,
Because your love, like a god, spreads within my soul.
Your love carries a dull dissatisfaction, ever-present,
Our contemporaries feel it and echo it along the way,
Announcing to the present-past, until the last breath,
That your Christ, my beauty, long ago ceased to exist, but turns into our dream.
In the abyss of gazes, where silence screams mute and deep,
The chasm stares back, a vortex gathering abstract emotions,
I offer it my fears, aspirations, and unspoken truths,
It swallows them all, leaving an unyielding void in my chest.
There exists a lexicon of despair, with sharp, cutting phonemes,
With discordant cadence, yet solace in graceful harmonies,
An elegy reminding me that I am both wound and witness,
Exiled and at home, in a universe that knows no harbor.
On the edge of the abyss, where light entwines with shadow,
I lose and find myself, a traveler wandering without aim,
In the stream of consciousness, I wonder who I am without it all,
An echo of unfulfilled dreams, a longing that does not struggle.
In the soliloquy of the abyss, where silence becomes the heart's language,
I find melancholic beauty, the poetry of falling and rising,
In the dance between void and fullness, eternal and profound,
I am both creator and creation, in the infinite that binds us all, round.
I am the fury of anguish,
Screaming to the heavens,
Crying, dieing, I languish,
Lementing my concessions.
I am the wrath of scorn,
Embodiment of war,
Once whole, forever torn,
Survivor, washed ashore.
I am the passion of lust,
Razing cities for her touch,
Corrosive, patient as rust,
I'm the broken, she's the crutch.
I am the rage of love,
Blissful and ignorant,
Brought down from above,
Ecstacy belligerent.
I am the broken man,
Consumed by his emotions,
Without aim, sight, or plan,
Crashing in the ocean.
Write me a song that lasts forever
That matches the evil that men do
So I can recall the times of happiness
That take me away from today’s chaos
Write me lyrics that don’t glorify bedlam
But tells me of the journey of life
And the beauty of the cosmos
Also of magnificent discoveries yet to come
There is a story yet to be told
of good things to be discovered and not the ugliness
Man has yet to admit about himself
And accept what he is and must discard
Man is a wonderful creation
One of God’s staunch pillars
If somewhat corroded
But still holding on
On this floating piece of debris
Drifting without aim
Waiting ‘til the day when all will be gone
Nothing to remain
‘Til then write me a song I can sing with gusto
With the courage that says all will be well
This world could sure use some righteous spirit
For you, me and all living creatures
On God's green earth struggling to survive.
With no love,
What purpose does life claim?
A journey without color,
A path without aim.
The warmth of a smile,
The comfort in a glance,
In its absence,
Life doesn’t stand a chance.
In a life without love,
What stories remain?
Just hollow echoes,
Bound by a chain.
Love fills the gaps
And makes us whole,
The heart’s true role
And our ultimate goal.
AIM
WITHOUT AIM LIFE IS ZERO
CHOOSE AIM MAKE HERO
LOST THINK ABOUT FAILURE
AFTER FAILURE , MAKE HERO
FAILURE MAKE SUCCESS
DON’T FEAR TO FAILURE
WAIT FOR GET SUCCESS
TAKE REST AFTER SUCCESS
WITHOUT AIM LIFE IS ZERO
CHOOSE AIM MAKE HERO
AIM CAN’T GET EASY
BUT TAKE IT EASY
WITHOUT AIM NO IMAGINE OF LIFE
YOU CAN FULFILL YOUR DREAM
WITH STRUGGLE OF LIFE
WORK HARD IS A PART OF AIM
DO WORK HARD WITHOUT BLAME
WITHOUT AIM LIFE IS ZERO
CHOOSE AIM MAKE HERO
Time forgotten,
Crystal rain and tangerine skies
Two became one
Tender hands caressing her skin
Thrilling her softness
With promises of forever
Lovers love
And dreamers’ dream
Hearts beating in rhythm
As a new day rises
The time is gone
Acrid tears and caustic taunts
Calloused hands delivering relentless blows
His barren fury soars without aim
Abusing her marrow
More will soon follow
Time after time
Gossamer deceit hidden behind
Miserly glass and shabby scarfs
She conceals his rage
From those who gawk and wonder
They see the truth behind her disguise
Bumps and bruises
Swollen eyes
They know…
And they do
Nothing
Time is meaningless
A clandestine sanctuary bides knowingly
Surrounded by hues of chaos
Whispering sounds
Ceaseless disarray
Blind eyes
She enters
Crimson Waves
A journey into the realm of escape
Away from his hands
Cursed by abandoned caress
Fleeing the gawking eyes
And senseless queries
Never let him see you cry
She whispers to
No one
Touching the pain
He can’t find you here
Promise the endless waves
Harm is Harmless
Fear is Fearless
Life is Death
Let the Crimson Waves
Carry you away
roaming without aim
early man hits on a cave
his niche ~ our future
By
David Kavanagh
Sometimes you feel without aim
Yet all the time want your name
To bear moment and some fame
It feels awful to be game
To fate’s arrow that lands lame
And wants you just to be tame
Inaction’s an evil maim
Gimme a break, Drake
In the space I own
In May, June or July to rake
In tonnes of peace without the groan
That serves no useful purpose
In the scheme of strategies I adopt
To rid my life of the toxic venom from the hind legs of your platypus
In circumstances and settings you co-opt
Cruising without aim into a dead end
From which I stray to preserve the serenity
I earn in peace urns that mend
Fuses, plugs and valves in the sovereignty
In which I fly aloft
The rocket propelling me to Venus
Where in tandem with Hermes and Cupid I climb aboard the loft
Where love once lived in pomp and splendor until fuss
Turned the tables
Crushing hopes I nurtured
In my thoughts, feelings and plans sauntering on gables
I thought you and I cultured
With a view to consolidating pre-nuptial plans
We’d painstakingly built
In the absence of adversity guns
That vowed we’d never fight the good battle to the hilt.
Just One © 2013
Written By
Lewis, Y.K
I’m alone in the mornings with only shadows to greet me. Silence
is all around me. Wait I hear something, every once in a while
noticing it, it’s just that lowly old heart of mine. I thought it
would be a more comforting sound but wait, there is more its only
my squeaky fan making the only constant sound.
My thoughts are lost flowing without aim going in all directions, wanting to be
noticed not by all, just one. I’m connected to none; not my heart,
not my head, nor my body. Seeing. Waiting for you to love me.
Love Me is my name. It’s the password to my connection as a blade
cuts through the air it cuts to the bone.
It is the only way to feel that turn on, that bite to the ear. The flames of passion I’ve lost the key. Silently, I listen. Waiting, just waiting.
Remembering when you loved me. I’m on top of the world.
I’m alone in the morning, only with the sound of the fan thinking love me,
a tear falls remembering your dead.
I'm a traveller,
Cannot stop and take rest,
I'm in search of water,
In search of shelter,
I'm a traveller,
On my birth; we lived on green branches,
My father had been died by thirst,
And my nest become burst,
I'm a traveller,
In search of love,
In search of life,
Men destroyed my nest,
Now where can I rest,
You made homes by wood,
It was my; now its thy,
My life is in danger,
Therefore I've anger,
I lost my family and friends,
In the war against men,
But they're still alive in my heart,
From eyes, that figures are not apart,
I fly lonely in the sky,
Without aim of life,
Because you made me a traveller,
And I become a traveller,
Now I'm a traveller.
Hello.
Hi
Nice to meet you. Much water flow by.
Many moons gone.
Long time.
Much altered much moved.
Karma Ferris wheel.
Merry go round and round and round.
Days of hibernating.
Thick mindset cloud
Synchronicity of minds.
And a helpless but powerful female.
Attacked and attacking.
Those that supposedly rule the collateral coughing cosmos of earth.
Many ears total six.
Large stemmed waistcoats sneering.
In all places
At all times
To fall is to have been felled.
But felling will ensure new growth.
Strengthening bows
And arrows
To ensure more even aim.
For without aim
There is an existamce equivelent to a mass herd of grazing livestock.
Of which the crowns and shrouds of ancient times
Would have held absolutely no purpose.
Wow and whoah
Whish and wanktania winkl
ZxZ
Talkative
Lady romantic came shaking bag green
Her habit is different mixing without aim
Not care of colleagues what they are talking
Starts to leave gossip as if bullet train
Red lipstick in purple lip is her favorite color
Green short and white pant with shoe tiptop
Curly hear brownish half sleeve in it
Black belt in waist simple looks her talkative
Friends and circles stop dialogue upon her arrival
Poor guys all know they should hear a lot from her
Creamery skin of her body dazzles as white as
Talkative title is famous for her she loves even to hear for
Odd habit she has got in mid of her talks
Loves to attract friends' attention must be paid towards
Touches every one and rolls eyes who are curious
Her guess stands accurate as if fashion of modern
Spending hours crashing grass she pass time always
Flee friends before hand as they notice her from far
Lady romantic is hip hop in the area by name miss brown
In absence of her people glee talkative so far.
5/1/2016
Deepak Chalise
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.