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AyeshaPoems
What good is all my love If you wish not recieve it Use it, use it till torn, cast it Aside as coat to a hanger Woolen soft and sagging in lone When its body be far far Far is beauty, in flavourless Riches, halls of boney ceilings And pillars of God, you So glorious in your indifference So irresistible: merciful your gaze As it grazes me by – myself, meek Cottage, of anticipation and dust Myself mumble, mug of night- Old melancholy. Throughout the stars ***** at me, waiting for agony To spill out its reticence I paint, paint, cheap commodities Fuel for your warmth in those White countries. Rag-clothes, Castoffs, rugs if you may A fable for a table or two A momentary exhibition If you may. Yet I I warp Over myself, restless in Scarcity of grief... how you Play at deprivation, clever And careless, coy as a bird Out out out to the blue with Your pretty laughter and mist And never again a flutter To drag me from dream Violent in your quiet, your Absent saturation, running A little red boy, alive as violins Round and round and round Me - nothing of you To boil or brew, no leftover Sight on which to chew
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Dec 7, 2023
Dec 7, 2023 at 4:27 AM UTC
Red boy
What good is all my love If you wish not recieve it Use it, use it till torn, cast it Aside as coat to a hanger Woolen soft and sagging in lone When its body be far far Far is beauty, in flavourless Riches, halls of boney ceilings And pillars of God, you So glorious in your indifference So irresistible: merciful your gaze As it grazes me by – myself, meek Cottage, of anticipation and dust Myself mumble, mug of night- Old melancholy. Throughout the stars ***** at me, waiting for agony To spill out its reticence I paint, paint, cheap commodities Fuel for your warmth in those White countries. Rag-clothes, Castoffs, rugs if you may A fable for a table or two A momentary exhibition If you may. Yet I I warp Over myself, restless in Scarcity of grief... how you Play at deprivation, clever And careless, coy as a bird Out out out to the blue with Your pretty laughter and mist And never again a flutter To drag me from dream Violent in your quiet, your Absent saturation, running A little red boy, alive as violins Round and round and round Me - nothing of you To boil or brew, no leftover Sight on which to chew
07/12/2023 To Aayan
Ayesha
Written by
Ayesha
21/F/Pakistan
Dec 7, 2023
Dec 7, 2023 at 4:27 AM UTC
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