Lyric Haven

Introduction: There are voices the world refuses to listen to—stories left in the shadows, truths buried beneath silence. This poem is about the struggles that remain unseen. Beneath the surface, dark and wide, Where muffled cries meet shattered dreams, A world unfolds in muted tides, Silent, yet bursting at the seams. The cries of women stain the night, Smothered beneath the weight of dread; Their dreams—a flicker lost to fright, While shadows loom where hope once bled. In homes where love should softly bloom, There lurks a shadow, cruel and cold, A whispered threat, a pending doom, As hearts are shattered, spirits sold. Domestic violence hides its face, Behind closed doors, where silence reigns, Each bruise a memory, every trace A mark that lingers, tied with chains. And gender’s fight, an uphill climb, Where women still are taught their place, While men are measured by a line That stifles both in this cruel race. The world demands conformity, A rigid box for each to fit, Yet heart...

Introduction: Strength is often forged in fire. This poem celebrates resilience, transformation, and the journey of rising from the ashes of pain into a renewed sense of self. I smile with pride When I gaze into her eyes, Recalling how she moved on From a life woven in lies. She wept through endless days, Faced sleepless, tortured nights; Living in a realm of darkness, Where even the sun lost its light. Once so frail, she’d flee her woes, Running from troubles that chased her way; Yet now she stands, unbowed and strong, Transforming pain into a brighter day. Behold her now, fighting fiercely, Braving storms with resolute grace; Who could have believed that the weak Could rise with such awe-inspiring pace? I recall the trivial sorrows, The tears shed for ephemeral things; Now her eyes have hardened, unyielding, Even as loss’s bitter echo rings. Her resurrection from a bitter past Is the anthem of her soul’s rebirth; Days that stole her innocence and youth Now fuel her relentless quest...

Introduction: Society often fears those who refuse to be caged and hence, tries to put them down. This poem is for the dreamers, the wanderers, and the ones who choose flight over chains. It is a celebration of freedom, of defying expectations, of daring to soar when the world demands you stay grounded. They call me lost, adrift, unmade, A man who lingers, a child who strayed. They whisper names, they shake their heads,  "A boy who walks where grown men tread." My hands still build from sticks and clay,  Yet castles crumble in decay.  I chase the clouds, they chase the clocks,  Their world is measured, built from blocks.  They trade in ledgers, debts, and gold,  Yet lock their dreams in cages cold.  They wear their masks of iron pride,  Yet cracks run deep where fears reside.  "Grow up," they say, "Stand firm, stand tall." But roots too deep can't dance at all.  Their hands grip tight to weight and steel,  Yet wonder why they cease...