Blades clinging and shields clashing Bones breaking and soldiers stabbing Yet you prattle like a rattle While others labor and battle. Faces burnt by the sun's scorching And palms torn...
I saw the mist kissing the mountains Stroking it gently with soft airy hands Whispering tales of love As the envious sun intruded. Reluctant to wake: The trees sweat—cold sweat...
Poetry is a form of art enjoyed by many: for some it's therapeutic; for others, it ought to be strictly formal and in conformity with universal standards. While a majority...