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Nov 2017
Momma!
I am your poem.

From that mountain hole
Too many pains left
And from the island of the vexation
A little pleasure on the journey twinkle They made  a missiles
I was fabricated just below your heart
And I am the part of it

Just by planting a tree farm
Trouble dirts your hands
I was penned from composition of roughness
And I am the stanzza of it

Thunder thrown out of your eyes
They are more expensive than pearls
Drinking  nano water
I was  masterminded
And I am the Masterpiece of it

The debt too scared by itself
Searching for fertilizer tissue
Selling the blood of your own
I was painted from the words of penalty
And I am the same book of it

Momma ! I'm not a poetess
I am your poetry ....
I am the product of plenty of sufferings ,and vexation that momma suffers
I am her words falling and rolling in the real life   ,pattern of her language
And I am her whole book
Smriti Ranabhat
Written by
Smriti Ranabhat  17/F/Nepal
(17/F/Nepal)   
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