Poems forever

Sea fever

By John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Naive soul

By Amna Ameer

Nobody cares.

They don't care if you're broken.

If you ache. If you're upset.

They don't care.

They only care about their own gains and successes.

I may be alone. Crying, Whimpering, Wailing.

But my voices won't echo.

Nothing will surpass the growing vacuum of indifference.

The sheer aloofness of others, and my deep empathy, will make my life uninhabitable.

Soon, the words will fall off and fade.

And, like the rain, my feelings will flood through the streets unnamed.

And I will know that whoever tries to come here will find out there is no life lived,

Only roles half fulfilled,

And a love that was misconstrued, and promises that were chewed on, over and over,

They no longer resemble human truce.

Now a war wages through words,

And a list of deceased is shared on pages,

Lit up in the sky like stars.

Is the world falling apart,

Or are we upside down?

What do you call it,

When you walk out of your body

Because the pain is unbearable,

And you try to relearn,

The feeling

Of being born again

Into a naive soul?

Her last wave

By Abid Agha

I saw her standing where sea and sorrow blend,

A fragile form at twilight’s end,

Cool breeze behind, the tides ahead,

And silence where her voice once led.

The salt-laced air, a memory kept,

Of laughter shared and tears we wept.

No words, no cry, no plea to stay -

Just Ocean eyes, then turned away.

That last frail wave, a tender sign,

Of love that time cannot confine.

And in that wave, so soft, so small,

She said adieu - and gave it all.

Her hand rose slow, a gentle arc,

A glow appeared against the dark.

I gazed again at her weeping face -

The tides grew harsh, as if to chase.

Yet still, I feel her near the shore -

Her last wave echoing evermore.

Bohemian

By Anam Afzaal

Voices

Weigh me down.

I hope someday,

Courage finds its way to me.

Turning ears deaf

To the world.

Shedding all the skins,

As light as feather.

We see each other,

Eye to eye;

My true self and I.

Maybe, one day.