Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
such alone-some time
i feel
in my heart
my heart is like a machine
that never ceased
my eyes shut
sleep is shattered
the midnight dream
this little whim
all a messy thing

II
I hated people spoke
words are not the medium
but a reflection
shrunk heart's;
memorial of harshness
nothing persists
but some madman's roar
they cared only what they had
i am unaware of my state
in good humor
my heart listens to the world's lost glory

III
that blue sky, a dreamer's passion
flower like of red, pale, purple
such soft and beauty
thorns with them- and they die too
sobs my little heart within me
my mouth is quite
i am of depth; like of an ocean's
might and profoundness
such passions !
I despise them all
pale face; dim lips- grey eyes
colorless theme all around
my life like a motion picture
without of ******, or an end
Of its beginning i couldn't recall
recalling has been too ******* my mind
despite still, i could still spot them
one by one
and could believe it never came through me

IV
Counting and calculation are not my natural traits
i still am nature's most gifted soul
i blink, and i start crying
without tears, without care
i am diminishing little by little
tree holds too many leaves; those leaves reminds me of my rejections
reminiscent of my worn-out love
all your beauty, all your wits, all your profound speeches
i wish to believe them to be true
truth adores me, truth comes to me
like a weary emotion
whatever i write, i couldn't bother to read again
such tiredness in me
i don't plan any written stuff, or care about any stanza's; or any grammar
pain don't know language- its a hearts lost freedom
where our souls are its captive
since long
my idle state- my idealism, and my dreamy world- i long to be in there
reality is too big enough for me to take
i am solo in my ride

V
freeze, frozen- cold statue
a little gift you all brought while you appeared
with you, took away my pieces of sacred heart
claiming to having had felt
these little pangs, sore aches within ones soul
i bother not to confess that i am of another land
this world- i never enjoyed !
Mahwish Z
Written by
Mahwish Z  London
(London)   
355
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems