Fourlinegraphia

25/04/2026

Sixteen days
*** *** *** ***
Sixteen days have passed in pain,
Time moves slow like endless rain.
Walls still stand, but feel so bare,
Since I cannot find you there.
***
Morning comes, but feels so weak,
Your soft voice I still do seek.
Used to wake with gentle call,
Now there’s silence in it all.
***
In the kitchen, still and cold,
Lives the warmth the past once told.
Old stone mortar waits for you,
Like it knows what it must do.
***
Pestle rests; it does not sing,
Missing hands that life would bring.
Pressure cooker, silent, still,
Has not whistled by your will.
***
Washing stone has lost its cry,
Cloths lie still and left to dry.
After beats your hands once gave,
Now it rests, so cold, so grave.
***
Tap has learned to not let flow;
Water waits, but does not go.
Like it knows you’re not around,
So it holds its silent sound.
***
Well rope hangs; it does not cry,
Pulley still-no creak, no sigh.
Every corner feels this loss;
Silent hearts no words can cross.
***
Pills and syrups, lined in rows,
Swallowed all the healing hopes.
Bottles stand like frozen prayers,
Empty of your tender cares.
***
Plates you set with gentle care
Now lie waiting, empty there,
Like a song that lost its tune,
Fading far too late, too soon.
***
Calling “Amma” fills my chest;
Echo comes, but gives no rest-
Like a child lost in the night,
Searching still for guiding light.
***
By your bed I sit alone,
Touching sheets now turned to stone.
Still it feels you’re somewhere near,
In each breath, in every tear.
***
Your soft steps across the floor
Live inside my heart once more.
Every corner speaks your name;
Nothing here will be the same.
***
Pain stays silent, deep, and slow,
Like a wound that will not go-
Like the smoke when fire is done,
Lingering though loss has won.
***
Now I stand and slowly see
What this loss has made of me:
Like a house that’s lost its light,
I’m alone within this night.
***
Finally, I realize-
I am now an orphan boy;
A house stands, but without home…
A life that lost its only joy.

https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/sixteen-days.html

Passion of Poetry

English poems Creative writing Short poems Emotional poetry

21/04/2026

21/04/2026

The Architect of Scars
**** ***** ***** ***** ****
The tree does not become shade
until a burning sun stands overhead.
The stars do not become guides
until the night surrenders to darkness.
****
The mountain does not boast of its height
until the valley is cast in its shadow.
The river does not sing of its strength
until it meets the stone that would stop it.
****
We are built of what we have weathered;
the glass is forged in the furnace,
the diamond is born of the weight
that the earth refused to lift.
****
Forgiveness is a word without a voice
until the wrong has been done.
Patience is a ghost in the hallway
until the clock refuses to strike the hour.
****
We look for the sunrise
not because dawn is beautiful,
but because the cold has settled in our bones.
We reach for the hand
not because we are weak,
but because the path has grown too narrow
to walk alone.
****
So let the wind howl against the timber;
it is only then the roots learn to grip.
Let the fire burn the field to ash;
it is only then the soil remembers how to bloom.
****
Let the wound leave its script upon the skin;
some truths are written only as scars.
Let sorrow carve its chambers in the heart;
it is only then compassion learns to dwell there.
****
For the heart is a closed room
until grief arrives with the key,
and the soul is a silent bell
until the hammer of the world
gives it a reason to ring.
****
A tree becomes mercy
because the sun is cruel.
A star becomes direction
because the night is deep.
****
And perhaps we become human
not in the absence of suffering,
but in the sacred shaping of it-
****
for the wound is not always ruin.
Sometimes
it is the architect.

https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/the-architect-of-scars.html

PassionofPoetry

English poems Creative writing Short poems Emotional poetry

21/04/2026

Sorrowed Bangles
**** **** **** ****
I have heard defeat arrive
not as thunder-
but like a snake in dry grass,
hissing through slander.
/
When they could not touch my thought,
they reached for my skin,
as crows peck at ripe fruit
they could never grow.
/
My name was held to fire
like thin gold over flame,
tested not for truth
but for how much pain it could carry.
/
I have seen honor hung on women
like glass bangles on trembling wrists-
bright as festival light,
fragile as a lie repeated too long.
/
And when a man stood like a mountain
against the storm of lesser minds,
they did not move the mountain-
they poisoned the river at its feet,
naming his women as weakness.
/
How strange this old world is:
shame circles women
like vultures around harvest fields,
while pride wears a man’s face
but hides in a woman’s wound.
/
I have known insults
that crawled like smoke under doors,
sexual words flung
like mud at a temple wall,
character torn
as dogs worry at burial cloth.
/
But I have learned-
when they strike the body
because they cannot strike the mind,
when they bruise a woman’s name
because her ideas stand taller than theirs,
it is not power speaking.
It is defeat,
bent on its knees,
spitting upward.
/
My bangles have sorrow in them, yes-
they sound sometimes
like rain trapped in broken shells.
But they also remember resistance.
They ring like little circles of iron,
like moons refusing eclipse.
/
So I leave the vile to their echo.
Let them gnaw their own darkness.
Not every wound deserves reply.
/
For some men insult women
the way dying lamps spit smoke-
only in the moment before extinction.
/
And I-
I will wear these sorrowed bangles
not as symbols of shame,
but as small bright revolutions
singing at my wrists.

https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/sorrowed-bangles.html

Passion of Poetry of Wisdome

English poems Creative writing Short poems Emotional poetry

17/04/2026

"Sin begins the moment I abandon what I know is right.”
Where Sin Begins
*****************
Sin begins the moment I turn away,
Not in the fall, but in the sway.
No sudden break, no loud descent,
Just quiet shifts of small consent.
***
A thought I soften, truth I bend,
A line I move to ease the end.
No witness there, no voice to warn,
Yet something fragile comes undone.
***
I tell myself it matters less,
That ease is peace, that less is rest.
But deep within, a knowing stays,
Unmoved by all my careful plays.
***
For right was never far or dim,
It lived within, it spoke within.
And every step I chose to stray,
Was one I felt-but turned away.
***
Yet even here, the path remains,
Not lost to time, nor bound in chains.
For what I left, I still can find,
If I turn back with steady mind.
***
Not through shame, nor sudden grace,
But quiet truth I choose to face.
For sin may start where I depart,
But so does healing-
in the heart.

https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/where-sin-begins.html

Passion of Poetry of Wisdome

English poems Creative writing Short poems Emotional poetry

17/04/2026

Wings of Sonic Boom

17/04/2026

"Money is the ruler; pen and pencil merely draw the lines. Yet money can erase every scale, while our boxes stay empty."
Wheel Within Time........................................
Money, you are like a wheel,
I move in you, bound by feel.
Without you, I fade to none,
Like a shadow without sun.
/
Money, why you love me not?
I am poor, by fate forgot.
I write dreams in silent night,
Yet earn nothing from my light.
/
In rich halls your bright voice rings,
Crowns are bought like common things.
In poor streets your absence cries,
Hope grows thin and slowly dies.
/
I am just a poet bare,
With empty hands and heavy care.
Words I weave like threads of gold,
Yet my hunger stays untold.
/
We both spin like leaves in air,
Turned by time with silent care.
Some rise high on golden spokes,
Some are crushed beneath your yokes.
/
Names and ranks the world assigns,
Measured all in coins and signs.
Man is weighed by what he owns,
Not by heart or silent groans.
/
Still I ask beneath the sky,
Must a dreamer live and die?
Is my worth in coins alone,
Or in seeds of thought I've sown?
/
Time decides our path and pace,
Lifts or drops us in the race.
Kings and beggars share one end,
Dust to dust, no coin to spend.
/
Like a wheel that slows its round,
We fall soft without a sound.
When time sleeps and motion dies,
All turns still beneath the skies.

https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/wheel-within-time.html

Passion of Poetry of Wisdome

English poems Creative writing Short poems Emotional poetry

16/04/2026

Heavenly Singer
***************
You stole my sleep like a gentle breeze,
A quiet thief that whispers through trees.
In midnight’s hush, you come and go,
A lost soul no sunlight can show.
*****
They left you in shadows long ago,
In halls where only dark winds blow.
Half alive, caught between night and day,
Living in dreams that drift away.
*****
Yet you-
You took my rest without a fight,
And painted skies in my lonely night.
A faint smile grew where sorrow stayed,
You turned my gloom to softer shade.
*****
Your voice, a whisper in the dark,
A fragile light, a tiny spark.
You speak of worlds too loud and bright,
And I wait for you in silent night.
*****
Who are you, that heals my ache?
A ghost or dream, I cannot break.
You say no dawn has called your name,
Just shadows that forget and blame.
*****
Come again, take what you need,
My restless soul is yours to feed.
Dreams that fade with morning’s glow,
Are yours in night’s soft, quiet flow.
*****
In the dark, I find my peace,
With you, my fears begin to cease.
Though you are cold and roam alone,
In me, you’ve found a quiet home.
*****
No sun can end what we have made,
Two souls lost, yet not afraid.
The vampire and I, in night,
Together in the fading light.

https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/heavenly-singer.html

Passion of Poetry of Wisdome

English poems Creative writing Short poems Emotional poetry

16/04/2026

The Last and Only
*******
You think you are the first, loud and shown,
But I am the last one and only, alone.
I don’t chase crowns or beg to be seen,
I walk my path-steady, sharp, and clean.
***
No echoes I follow, no shadows I trace,
I carve my own ending, I set my own pace.
Where others seek glory, I simply endure,
Complete in myself-final, certain, and sure.
(An Alfa Wolf Confidence)
https://4graphia-en.blogspot.com/2026/04/the-last-and-only.html

Passion of Poetry of Wisdome

16/04/2026

Ida Cruise Rogue
# # Review of "The Weight of Noon"
# # # Rating: 9.5/10

12/04/2026

You Are Not Alone, Poet
*************************
Write, even when your voice trembles-
for somewhere, another poet-
is waiting to feel less alone.
//
You are not a solitary spark,
but part of a quiet constellation,
each word you write-
lighting another unseen star.
//
Do not chase perfection-
chase truth.
For the simplest line, born from your soul,
can outlive a thousand perfect verses.
//
Remember,
you are not just a writer of words,
but a keeper of hearts,
a witness to the unseen.
//
So rise, poet,
your voice matters,
your silence speaks,
and your poem may be-
someone’s reason to hope.

Your Fourlinegraphia