Deep And Meaningful Poems Novels & Stories

She stayed a long time. The lamp burning on the wall. The territory around her. Silent in the deep cold. Lit from within. All the windows. All the people. All the work. The record growing. The formation traveling. The roots deepening. The water still. Rising still. Always. Through the cold. Through the dark. Through the deepest winter. Still rising. Because living things rose. Because the roots were real. Because the work was right. Because the people were here. Because the room was here.

“If you change them to an asymmetrical curve, wouldn’t it look more like a butterfly spreading its wings?” Yvette froze. For the first time, someone had understood the hidden meaning in her Broken Butterfly Wings collection. The broken lines and the deliberate imperfections reflected the pain she could never put into words.

I explained in the most carefree way possible. With a tender smile, Rurac began reciting a poem that held a special place in his heart. I couldn't believe that he had in him, The words danced off his tongue, carrying a melody of emotions. I listened, captivated by the compassion and vulnerability in his voice. At that moment, it felt as if time stood still, and it was just the two of us, lost in the beauty of his words.In you, my love, new life takes hold,A miracle, a story yet untold.

“why can we not understand the message beneath, Why do we hear just a howl? Why can we not see what you do to us, By igniting the fire every then and now. It's because of your dear memories that we cry, We let it out, that fake smile. You help us know what being strong means, You help us grow flowers from the unwanted weeds.”, I heard someone complete my unfinished poem. I looked behind to see a shadow. There was a man standing wearing all black clothes. Even his face was covered with a black cloth. If he didn’t have the royal sword, I could have easily confused him with a thief. “What kind of a gentleman are you to eavesdrop on a lonely girl’s thoughts?”, I asked.

* I saw the beauty of the sky Colors so vibrant you'd think they never die * I saw the beauty of the waves Every splash telling a story of younger days * I saw the beauty of the rains Every drop falling freely like horses without reins * I saw the beauty of the night For only then were the stars alight * I saw the beauty in the flames of a fire Each one burning with a different desire * I saw the beauty of Gold Glistening with bitter stories untold * Oh I saw the beauty of dust and clay Simple reminders of our end someday.

Jasper said thoughtfully. "Sounds good. I remember a famous poem 'Far From The Madding City'. The poem was about arriving at a paradise after passing through a narrow cave. The people there grew their own crops and lived a peaceful life." "How could you still remember these things?" Jasper was curious. He remembered that he had read this when he was a child, but he had almost forgotten all of it. "I like these romantic poems, especially the ones by Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning," Stella chatted casually.

It was like our souls were weaving together with every stroke of him inside me. We didn’t need any more words to express our pleasure. It was beautiful and exquisite and transcended anything we had shared thus far in the bedroom. I felt the release blossom inside me like a ray of sunshine warming my skin, but from the inside out. I dropped my head back and let out a low keening sound as he took over the moving of our bodies.

“Let’s see it.” I turned the paper over, and revealed the poem scrawled in pencil on the back. Down the streets of woodland black I wander, earth to hearse In every tree I see a wave A looming tidal curse On the cusp of something greater Stood ankle-deep in floodwater Stagnant pools of brown and red The onslaught is coming; I dread For each dark night and each pearl day The mist does clear too soon The floodplain is drown’d again The water, torn from its ocean womb

Arrogance befit no man for whatever we have today, won’t be buried with us tomorrow. ~Humeyra. HAMDAN’S P.O.V The last messages I got from Humeyra really messed me up. I didn’t know that I meant so much to her that my death would affect her as much as she said. The poem she wrote to me still lingers in my mind as I recall my heart beating to every word that her poetry entailed. The poem goes as follows:

The poem goes like this: “They said you came looking for me. I didn't drown; I was the water." I don't know if that makes sense to you as much as it made sense to me. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful poem written by someone who understands human beings and life in a special way that I and you who has read the poem don't understand. I am not going to waste my time to talk about atheism or to debate about the loopholes of religion. I will leave it for a Sunday when I have the time and strength to actually put a lot of efforts in airing my view for all of you to be complacent with yourself while keeping in mind that my motives are purely intended to bring good and not to cause harm as some of yo