Reminder

I carry you every where
just not in my heart,
And keep losing my mind
at the thought of a new start.
Sleepless nights
and exhausted will,
My soul is lost
at the top of a hill.
You’re the most prominent scar
on my chest,
Keep getting worse
if I stop to rest.
I keep you
at the top of my lungs
as a reminder of what not to breathe,
It keeps me empty and fine
just like a swordless sheath.

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Dilemma

Not my usual way of writing. I hope this turns out to be okay.

___________________________________________

In middle of an argument the poet left one day. He was certain that he is better on his own and needs nobody to be content. He left the garden of poppies, went to Amazon, sahara and Everest. He was delighted at the thought of living his life to the fullest and converted his pain into art, wrote a lot of books and was really well liked.

On the other hand when he left, poem was shattered, but she decided to live, as she is the sole reason for a poet to live. She was certain that the poet will come back but after some time she gave up on hope and broke down in abrupt stanzas. She still is beautiful because words never lose their magic, but now she don’t know how to rhythm anymore. Art knew she was fine, as there were no cuts and bruises on her wrist and elbows.

One day poet realized that he can never escape the poem. Where ever he went, she was with him. Poem was his only source of inspiration and the soul of his words. He decided to go back.

When poet came, poem knew the way a poet cannot escape a poem, the poem can never abandon a poet too. Poem was delighted to see him but realized she no more belongs to anyone. She was a barbarian now and have become very dangerous. She still loves the poet but cannot commit to him. What should the poem do now?

Be a voice

I know it’s not easy, but trust me, when you refuse to be a victim, they are forced to step down. And remember IT IS NOT NORMAL, it’s NOT a part of growing up.

Let your voice be a voice.

___________________________________________

She wanted to be thunder
as never liked things to be slow.
Went to the counter in hurry for ticket
Was excited as she got a window.

For a 15 years old, seeing a bus
for the very first time was a big deal.
Of course she was afraid
but ready to fly on wheel.

After some time she woke up to
a weird sensation on her neck,
They boy next to him, asleep thought,
was touching the small of her back.

She ignored at once because was not aware,
But boy’s face was so close to her hair.
He touched her thigh and there was a visible cry on her face,
She was in dire need of some breathing space.

She thought,
“What am I supposed to do about something I can’t understand,
But I know if he is going to ask me, I definitely want to break his hand.
Mumma once told me to go with my gut,
My heart is hurting, damn it, my mouth can’t play shut. “

At once she stood up and started shouting on his face,
Such clear words, from a mouth full of grace.
She slapped him and made him to leave the bus,
And in that bus, her voice left some really powerful cuts.

Rainbow

When war was over
I held my tears close,
Started walking backwards
on the tip of my toes.
Painted everything black
went back to the shell,
I thought light left
through my every cell.
When courage broke
I cried a sea,
first time,witnessed a world
that was alive within me.
Then I realized,
regardless of all the highs and low,
I can’t lose colours,
I’m the rainbow.

#blueforsudan

What colour of skin, do death and sufferings acknowledge?
Don’t look at me now, pretending, you had no knowledge.

Raping my child, breaking my womb,
I am forced to wear a viel of gloom.

The red of my blood is shadowed by, red quenching the city,
All the colours are gone, that once made my people pretty.

They humiliated my heart with every possible force,
I know universe loved us, when Nile refused to engulf corpse.

You said you are safe, and I always wonder,
Maybe you’ll know, when your own doors receive this thunder.

Poetry on my skin.

Proud on
shallow connections,
You thrive to earn,
All this fake affection,
Can’t be a good turn.

You ask me to fly,
But I don’t want wings,
My aim is already high,
I don’t need your things.

Your energy
revolves around the greed,
My strength
floats within trees.
Stop suggesting me to read,
I don’t want your aura,
please.

You want me to dive in sea,
I don’t care
about virtue or sin.
Oh dear!
You can’t tame me,
It’s poetry,
written on my skin.