Beautiful Eyes
Oh, those eyes, like stars in the night, ✨
A cosmic dance of shimmering light.
Deep as oceans, they pull me near, 🌊
Windows to dreams, so vivid, so clear.
Emerald glints or sapphire's hue, 💎
Each glance a story, forever true.
They hold the warmth of a summer's day, ☀️
Chasing shadows and doubts away.
In their gaze, I find my home, 🏡
A silent song, a heartfelt poem.
No words can capture their boundless grace,
A universe blooms in their tender space. 🌌
Beautiful eyes, they steal my breath,
Guiding my soul through life and death. 💫
Forever I'll linger in their sweet glow,
Where love and wonder endlessly flow. ❤️
About the Creator
Am@n Khan
I'm educational storyteller passionate about turning knowledge into engaging narratives.
I write about topics like science, history and life skills.
Contact
WhatsApp : +923336369634
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaa day ago in Poets
Public Announcement Challenge Winners
For the Public Announcement Challenge, writers were asked to work inside voices built for control. These were notices, warnings, and updates meant to inform rather than confess. The strongest entries committed to that form and didn't break from it. Corporate memos, formal government alerts, and internal policy language were held consistently, allowing emotion, fear, grief, or humor to surface indirectly through pressure rather than declaration. The following poems recognize the voice of authority, and let human feeling slip through despite all its rules and restraint.
By Vocal Curation Team3 days ago in Resources
Comments (1)
This poem really nails the beauty of eyes. Reminds me of how a special someone's eyes can make you feel.