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When your gaze found mine #lovepoem #surrealpoem #poetrydaily

When your gaze found mine, the whole world swayed, As if the earth had missed a hidden beat; The sunlight suddenly grew unafraid, Then melted like warm gold around my feet. I tried to look away, but something stayed, A trembling little universe in you; My eyes became two doors I could not close, And every secret seemed to wander through. I felt my cheeks turn roses in the rain, A sudden fire underneath my skin; The stars began to whisper my sweet shame, While little suns kept blooming from within. Your eyes were not just eyes, they were a place, A strange blue room where gravity was gone; I wandered through the silence of your gaze And somehow lost the person I was on. My heartbeat stumbled, then forgot its name, It ran barefoot through corridors of light; I blushed as though the moon had called me beautiful, Then hid my face from heaven's watching sight. The trees leaned closer, jealous of the view, The flowers opened wider just to see; Even the wind became unusually shy, As thoug...
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The Dice Has Not Stopped #surrealpoetry #poetrydaily #poetryaddict

The dice is still rolling.

I heard it last night
inside the belly of the moon,
knocking against its silver bones
while something beneath the earth
counted the numbers.

One.

Two.

Three.

I looked outside.

The stars were gone.

Not hidden.

Gone.

As if someone had reached into the sky
and quietly stolen them.

You stood beside your palace
wearing the proud smile
of someone who believed
the universe had chosen him.

“Look what I have built.”

You pointed at the towers.

You pointed at the gold.

You pointed at the doors
that opened whenever you approached.

But behind you,
the shadows were whispering.

They knew something
you did not.

The river did not ask your permission
before becoming a river.

The sun did not read your name
before entering the morning.

And the wind
has never stopped to ask
who deserves to breathe.

You simply woke one day
with food on your table,
a roof above your head,
and enough light in your hands
to believe you had created the sun.

Grace is a strange creature.

It enters quietly.

It leaves quietly.

Sometimes it places gold
inside the hands of a king.

Sometimes it places nothing
inside the hands of a beggar.

And sometimes,

it gives one man everything
only to see what he will do
when another man has nothing.

So be careful
when you laugh at the person
sleeping beneath the bridge.

You do not know
what the night has written for him.

Tonight,

he sleeps beneath the bridge.

Tomorrow,

the bridge may disappear.

The river may rise
and carry him somewhere
the maps have forgotten.

The clouds may bend toward him
and whisper his name.

And your palace,

your beautiful palace...

may wake in the middle of the night
with a heartbeat.

The walls may begin breathing.

The windows may open
without wind.

The doors may grow feathers.

And one by one,
your rooms may detach themselves
from the earth
and fly into the darkness,

carrying your paintings,

your furniture,

your gold,

your photographs,

and every memory
you thought belonged to you.

You will stand alone
on the empty ground
asking the sky what happened.

The sky will not answer.

It will only roll the dice again.

That is the cruel joke.

The universe never laughs.

It simply watches.

Fortune is not a throne.

Fortune is a bird
with black eyes.

It lands where it wants.

You may feed it today.

You may build it a golden cage.

You may teach it your name.

But tomorrow,

you may wake
and find the cage empty.

The bird will be sitting
on the shoulder
of the stranger
you refused to see.

So speak softly
about the unlucky.

Some people are not cursed.

They are simply standing
in a chapter
you have not reached yet.

Their darkness
may only be a door
waiting for morning.

And your light,

your precious light,

may only be a candle
someone else is carrying
toward you.

Keep your hands open
when counting your blessings.

Because closed hands
look very much like fists
when the universe is watching.

And when you hear it,

that small sound
beneath everything,

click...

clack...

click...

do not celebrate.

Do not pray for another six.

Do not laugh
because the number is currently yours.

Listen.

Something is moving behind the walls.

Somewhere beyond the stars,
something enormous
is shaking the universe
inside invisible hands.

Perhaps it is God.

Perhaps it is fate.

Perhaps it is only chance.

Or perhaps,

the hands belong
to the person
you once called unlucky.

The dice is still rolling.

Your number may be six today.

Tomorrow,

it may fall into darkness.

Tomorrow,

another hand may catch it.

And perhaps the deepest horror
is not that fortune changes.

Perhaps it is this:

You were never holding
the dice at all.

You were only holding
your breath,

waiting for the universe

to decide

whose name

comes next.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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