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Showing posts with the label Karma

Life Will Humble You #life #inspirationalpoetry #poem

You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
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Karma Revealed Itself #sadpoetry #freeverse #poem

They thought the board was simple, black and white, a quiet war of squares. They moved with smug precision, fingers light with borrowed flair. A pawn, they thought, stood trembling, small and slow and easy prey. “A fool across the table,” Their confident eyes would say. They nudged their pieces forward, with laughter in their breath, not seeing silent footsteps being laid beneath their chess. Across the board, a smile appeared, gentle, calm, and thin, the kind that hides a thousand plans patiently waiting within. A bishop slid unnoticed, a knight curved through the air, each move a whispered secret They were far too proud to hear. Still, they grinned at every turn, certain they had won, never feeling karma’s shadow creeping square by square, undone. Then silence filled the board at last. The smile remained the same. One final piece stepped softly forward— and ended the game. No anger in the victory, No thunder in the mate. Just two quiet words lay neatly down: Checkmate. Your plate. © ...
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The Bitter Seed #poem #freeverse #sadpoetry #karma

A bitter seed rests in your hand, Rough on the tongue, heavy to keep, Not easy to swallow, nor pleasant to taste, Yet it is the fruit of the fields you reap. It grew from the soil you once prepared, From silent choices the earth had known, Roots fed by deeds you scattered in time, Now rising tall where the winds have blown. The harvest arrives with a hardened truth, Its skin cracked open beneath the sun, Rotten by heat that would not forgive, For the planting was done, and the growing begun. Life turns its wheel like quiet karma, Returning the seeds we buried below, What once was sown with careless hands Returns in the fruits we must now know. No tears fall down to soften the ground, No sorrow can bargain with fate’s decree, So face the music the seasons play, And dance to the rhythm of what must be. For every field remembers the farmer, Each seed recalls the hand that cast, And the bitter fruit upon your lips Is the echo of choices from your past. © 2026 Gloria Penelope
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The Storm You Awaken "Karma" #poem #sadpoetry #naturepoetry

When you drape deceit upon my name, do not expect me to wilt like a wounded flower. I am not fragile porcelain set upon the shelf of your amusement. I am flint against steel, And your trickery is the spark you never learned to fear. You thought your are clever, weaving velvet lies with a silver tongue, masking intent behind honeyed breath. But I taste falsehood the way wolves taste blood in winter air. Understand this, My stillness is not surrender. It is a calculation. It is the ocean before the tempest, the hush before cathedrals collapse. When I react, it is not noise, It is reckoning. I do not scatter madness blindly; I distill it. I refine it into something precise, a blade forged in the furnace of betrayal. You call it fury, I call it balance restored. For when someone dares to outwit my patience, to gamble with my trust, they awaken something ancient, a law older than pride: Karma. And I, I become its instrument. Not cruel without cause, not wrathful without wound, but inevitabl...
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