This wistful longing, deep and true,
Though known to you, it feels anew.
A poignant tugging on your heart,
A distant echo, yet a piercing art.
You call it by a different name,
But its essence remains the same.
A yearning for what once was lost,
A love that lingers, at any cost.
Is it nostalgia, bittersweet and tender,
Or longing, a flame that burns forever?
Perhaps it’s both, a bittersweet refrain,
A testament to love, despite the pain.
Whatever its name, this feeling so real,
Is a reminder of love’s enduring zeal.
Tag: essence
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Familiar Feeling
alliteration, Bittersweet, enduring, essence, familiar feeling, longing, loss, love, memory, nostalgia, pain, poem, poems, Poetry, poignant, reflection, refrain, reminiscence, wistful, Zeal
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Liberation’s Leap
In relinquishing we unearth our cadence
For when we comprehend our intrinsic eminence
We embark upon a journey resplendent in hue
Abandoning what dulled our vision askew.
In measured strides we advance towards luminosity
Glimmers of hope guiding our ascent deftly
A gossamer thread woven with purpose and grace
Resolving to forsake that which held us in solace.
With steadfast resolve we yield unto liberation’s call
Transcending the blighted shadows that once held us enthralled
Elevating our spirits to loftier realms on celestial wings
Where the brilliance of self-discovery resplendently sings.
For in the surrender of stale narratives gone awry
We unearth treasures hidden gems that fortify
And as we clasp hands with boundless possibility
We embrace the splendor of newfound felicity.
So let go dear soul and embrace your destined flight
Shedding burdens that shrouded your inner light
For in the audacious leap towards vast expanse
We discover the true essence of our divine dance.
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Pythagoras’ Philosophy
Pythagoras, the wise man of old,
Believed in numbers, as we are told,
He taught of harmony, music and more,
And how to live a life that’s pure.He said the world is made of math,
And numbers are the hidden path,
To understand the universe as a whole,
And find the essence of every soul.His thoughts on life were deep and true,
A way of living that we can pursue,
To seek knowledge and wisdom every day,
And let our souls guide us on our way.
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A tribute to all poets
A tribute to all poets, who weave words like magic spells,
Whose lines can make us laugh or cry, or take us from heaven to hell,
They paint pictures with their verses, and create worlds with their rhymes,
Their words can heal a broken heart, or take us back to olden times.They capture the essence of life, in every single verse,
And make us feel emotions, that we didn’t know we could nurse.
They are the dreamers of our world, who put our thoughts to flight,
A tribute to all poets, who make our world a little more bright.
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Portrait of an Artist
In the stillness of creation,
an artist sat with pen in hand
Crafting beauty and innovation,
his mind ignited by the grand.With each stroke, the canvas came alive,
as hues and tones interplayed,
the world around him seemed to thrive,
in colors that would never fade.He saw the essence of each object,
and painted them with skill and grace,
his portrait captured the subject,
and revealed their inner place.
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Quiet Contemplation
Quiet Contemplation
I sit alone in silence
I close my eyes and breathe
I let go of my worries
I calm my restless mindI focus on the present
I feel the peace within
I connect with my essence
I find my inner light.
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A Humanoid Universe
A Humanoid Universe
In this vast universe we roam,
Humanoid beings seek a home.
Our quest for life, a grand pursuit,
A journey we cannot refute.From star to star we travel far,
Our essence reaching to each star.
A universe of life we find,
A grand design of every kind.
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The World Within Us
The World Within Us
Beneath our skin and bones,
Lies a universe unknown,
A world within us thrives,
Where our deepest essence resides.Emotions ebb and flow,
As thoughts and feelings grow,
The world within us, vast and grand,
Is a mystery we can’t understand.
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Footprints of Life
Footprints of life
As I walk along the shore,
I see footprints in the sand,
Some are fresh, some are old,
Some are big, some are small.Each tells a story of its own,
Of a journey that was taken,
Of a life that was lived,
Of a moment that was cherished.Some footprints are deep,
As if the weight of the world,
Was carried on the shoulders,
Of the one who made them.Others are light and gentle,
As if the one who made them,
Was dancing to the rhythm,
Of the waves that crashed ashore.And in those footprints, I see,
The joys, the sorrows, the memories,
Of a life that was lived,
Of a journey that was taken.For in those footprints, I see,
The essence of life itself,
The ups, the downs, the twists and turns,
That make our journey beautiful.And so, as I walk along the shore,
I leave my own footprints in the sand,
Hoping that someday, someone,
Will see the story of my life.For footprints in the sand,
Are not just imprints of our feet,
They are the marks we leave behind,
Of the life we lived so sweet.So let us walk our journey well,
And leave footprints deep and true,
For in those footprints, we leave,
The legacy of all we do.
© VishalDutia
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A Poet of the Heart
A Poet of the Heart
I can feel my file,
As it pulses through my veins,
A part of me, a piece of my style,
A symphony of thoughts, a mental refrain.It’s the essence of my being,
The story of my life,
The words that I am seeing,
The joys, the pain, the strife.It’s a reflection of my soul,
A mirror to my mind,
A place where I’m whole,
And my thoughts are free to find.I can feel my file,
A treasure trove of dreams,
The memories that make me smile,
And the nightmares, or so it seems.It’s a window to my style,
And my imagination’s reins.
A power that can beguile,
And free me from all my chains.So let my words flow like a river,
And my thoughts take to the sky,
For I can feel my file forever,
And it will never truly die.For though mortality may claim me,
And my body may depart,
I’ll remain a poet of the heart,
For my words will live on and be free.© VishalDutia
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I can feel my file
I can feel my file
I can feel my file,
As it pulses through my veins,
A part of me, a piece of my style,
A symphony of thoughts, a mental refrain.It’s the essence of my being,
The story of my life,
The words that I am seeing,
The joys, the pain, the strife.I can feel my file,
A treasure trove of dreams,
The memories that make me smile,
And the nightmares, or so it seems.It’s a reflection of my soul,
A mirror to my mind,
A place where I’m whole,
And my thoughts are free to find.I can feel my file,
And the power it contains,
It’s a window to my style,
And my imagination’s reins.So let my words flow like a river,
And my thoughts take to the sky,
For I can feel my file forever,
And it will never truly die.© VishalDutia
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