Posts Tagged ‘poem’

The Caterpillar and The Butterfly

On the outskirts of braveness lays fear
that audacity and stupidity veneer

So lays the caterpillar on the brink of despair
his paradigm shifted in a world he thought fair
when they took his love away,
stop……..hear the violin play

they took her a millions stories afar,
so he solemnly declared war

hearts beat faster then reason
swords yearn for treason
and even evil didn’t deserve his wrath
blood trails and screams filled his path

he fought for her; he killed them all
but where death stands, there’s no man too tall
no cause too great, if it starts it ends
time kills what it mends

the wounds that sparkled his fury
are the same that induced him slowly
in a world far away
beyond the reach of the gods she’ll pray

in her arms, his life dwindles away
Butterfly, he manages to say,
I’ve done all of this… so you can fly away”

I am

I am…

Incomplete like an abstract puzzle

I am…

A whisper like their quiet muzzle

I am…

Boredom like tick……tock……..tick…………tock

I am…

Empty like the writer’s block

I am….

Lonely like the moon in the sky

I am…

Sorry like the coward’s lie

 

I am all this without you!

Excuses

“Excuses, she yelled, excuses”
– But they’ve strangled all my muses!
“Excuses, she yelled…they’re all excuses!”

– But I’m not lying,
I never have time to see,
Too busy dreaming
Never have time for me
Tomorrow is way too pressing.
I never have time to eat,
I’m always hungry for more
And walking is a feat
If you’ve never done it before
It’s never what is
Because it’s always what if
You See, there was never a time to seize!
Umm… But what if?
What if life was never ending?

“Would you write me then?” she said,
Lying motionless in her death bed
-But my muses!
“Excuses, she whispered, excuses”
Soon I’ll borrow the casket that she uses.

my stomach has a story

My stomach has a story,

He’s shy, so he tickles my spine,

He tried, but he finally resigned

To his fate;

It’s too late.

My feet have a story to tell;

They walked on the sun.

They’re short so they always run.

My heart has a story to tell.

It pumps bitterness all through my veins.

And fear as it tied up with chains.

And my eyes, well why do I see

If Misery is reality?

I cry just to quench my thirst,

And my mouth has a story

But if it opens then air comes in first,

And my stomach pops,

And my heart stops.

My stomach has a story to tell

You’d cry if you ever felt it

But it’s scenic so it’s probably fitted

…Well, I have a story,

I’m shy, so I cuddle with death

I shiver…I can feel his breath

*Dedicated to the children suffering and dying in Darfur. sign the petition