Unearthed Thread

To grow out a stalk from a tree
That, one day, will be a forest,
Is extremely difficult for I lived
A life void of He and full of She,
And because of She, I have to
Stitch some threads to form
A line to keep in touch. Even
If I was to be overseas or maybe
Some few steps away from He.

It is difficult, for He has chosen,
For I have observed with eyes
So innocent: the days become
Nights and nights creating
A tearful moon since the sun
Has hidden the blessings it
Once provided and so I write
Words before speaking them
Out loud in hope that it might
Just help me stay together.



Sunday, 31st of May 2015

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Emotional Collision

I rarely publish personal poems that are easy to understand without the use of metaphors and/or similes such as this one; titled 'Emotional Collision'. I am currently in conflict whether to share this poem or not. For now, I will keep it hidden, but I will share its contents. [deleted] I write this to let my readers recognise this poem since it is important to me. Maybe, too important or too scared for me to share. Yes, maybe both, but scared for sure. Sunday, 1st of May 2011
Read more

A Game of Chess

If not for the moonless sky of this night's misery, the day might extend an eye to watch over a handful of thieves, A conundrum oscillating between two distinct colours, in hope of creating a dilemma to stop the moving pendulum, Theories develop to foresee a useless wit of the mind, only to realise the existence of a more soothing punishment, A hand moves between crowds for a binary command, except when another retaliates by a delusional retreat, Psychological mistreatments going back and forth, if only to acquire the wisdom of strategizing a winning blow, Factual circumstances attracted the use of force, until the brittleness of the substance snapped into bits and pieces, If not for the countless sacrifices of many queens, the era of kings might end under the rubbles of monstrous beings. Thursday, 09 th of April 2015
Read more

Blessed are We

There is a time when the heavy rain, Declines to face the atrocious sand, And emerges on the horizon at dawn, To fall from the sky above so high, Onto the bricks and gates of a castle. But deep down in his warm heart, He wants to guide those who are lost, He then cries out loud then he sighs, And then the moon escapes the clouds, Shining the light on the forlorn souls. To be a part of this enormous castle, To embed within its protective walls, To evaporate into the clouds up high, To become yet another heavy rain, To drench tears from the souls of sands. Tuesday, 08th of June 2010
Read more