Puisi Mengejar Mimpi Novels & Stories

Tuberose, your allure captivates my very core, And until our paths converge, I'll yearn for more. So, I'll continue on this quest, with determination true, To unravel the mystery, to discover the real you. Until that moment arrives, when the veil is finally shed, I'll cherish your words, Tuberose, in my heart and in my head. For in the realm of poetry, our souls do intertwine, A connection forged through words, a bond divine. And as I navigate this world, seeking your true name,

Why don’t you enlighten us with those words? ‘ okay okay, it's just a 4 lined poem. I couldn't write anymore.' Cassandra, at last, surrendered laughingly. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and began: " Dreams are fantasies Fantasies which will never come true, They all lie in ashes When morning comes in view! Fallen in love with a prince, I dreamt one day. He wore the white fustanella And was always happy and gay. His crown of palm leaves Glittered in the morning sun.

Dear Unknown, Promises were once carved in stars but now, the unfulfilled oath is written in scars; ink continually bleeds poems about love although everything hasnʼt been unveiled neither been figured out. thereafter, i tried to bury our memories and every resemblance of you. But I couldn't do so, at least amidst of trying to sought for happiness, in my mind there lies your memories and pictures of you. I will be back after searching for happiness. I will take the last vengeance, I must do it. For those people who can read this, remember me and come find me. I am just here, waiting for you.

The heart screams The rejection of peace To me From me Each new day But then till I live Will I be dust Each new way No success new Reaches me Despite Huge attempts My sweat does make My heart does make I am paralysed Or am I dead I don't even know A moment When I enjoyed life Without a breakage As threat If this is life What is death What is end What is dullness When this is light Of my life I am frail now I know I am weak I know the cause Of my every disease Is mental unease But I still won't complain I still won't complain Till fire extinguish My dreams To dirt, it will be All expectations from me With encouragement Only as a dream How long will I live How long will I blame One day At res

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

Mingming loves literature and Yin Wenyan wrote every character of every word in every poem that the young man made. To Xu Zhengming, freedom is only attainable at night. To Yin Wenyan, every night felt like it's the time to meet a long-lost friend. But the time they stopped seeing each other came. 'It is now getting late But still, for you, I wait The snow starts to fall I'm shivering as I call You lift me with your left hand But with your right, you let me land I only have these memories to keep And can only hope to see you in my sleep.'

Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death:

) "Sufi iska rang haaye, Is mein joh tera khwaab piroya, Is mein joh tera khwaab piroya, Neendein bani patang..." (It has a pious colour, When I weaved your dreams in it, When I weaved your dreams in it. Then my sleep flew away like a kite...) "Dil bharta nahi, Aankhen rajti nahi, Dil bharta nahi, Aankhen rajti nahi..." (My heart is never content, My eyes aren't tired of seeing you, My heart is never content, My eyes aren't tired of seeing you...) "Chahe kitna bhi dekhti jaaun, Waqt jaaye main rok na paaun..."

She crouched, touching a glowing letter. It pulsed once beneath her fingertip, warm and alive. > “The world’s writing poetry now,” she murmured. > “Or asking questions,” Adrian said behind her. He knelt, studying the lines. “They’re fragments. Conscious thoughts trying to connect.” > “Like a baby’s first words?” > “More like a symphony learning its first note.” The words kept appearing, vanishing as soon as the rain touched them. > “It’s thinking out loud,” Mira whispered. “We made a world that dreams.”

"Suddenly I find myself getting suffocated in that room, so I...I start searching for a way out." He clutches my hand tightly, appearing terrified as he reminisces his nightmare. "When I look around, I don't see anything...except for a mirror illuminating in one of its corners. I run towards it to find a way out of that horrible room. But when I reach in front of it...What I see is....I see myself standing before it without a face."