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keshanPoems
I wish for an end to come A welcome I spoke; untrue now The progress of time, showing me pain Saved me than, to severe me again An arid mind, pleading for lines to flow. Upon entrance, my improbable dream tempted reality My artistry had granted me a title, of weight Dragging me down, before a rise begun A love that fluctuated, had become so dear Belonging had I found, as a poet in the world. Almost quit had I, before my words were fully fledged At the mention of poetry, I had deigned to deny the ink A fear of being deemed feminine, had taunted my being My stanzas had become a guilty pleasure, I could not resist Years transpiring, before guilt became pride. My heart had been afforded a source of release I had been gifted a talent, to be honed Appreciation was not a given, but had grown A time of need, was announced with hope Depression I could not part with, but a reprieve I had found. Weeks into the year, and my footing I had lost The joyous monotony of writing had found absence My life had worn to a thread - a noose was seen an escape Will myself I could not, without another try A last attempt, reviving an unconscious passion.
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Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
~A Love That Falters~
I wish for an end to come A welcome I spoke; untrue now The progress of time, showing me pain Saved me than, to severe me again An arid mind, pleading for lines to flow. Upon entrance, my improbable dream tempted reality My artistry had granted me a title, of weight Dragging me down, before a rise begun A love that fluctuated, had become so dear Belonging had I found, as a poet in the world. Almost quit had I, before my words were fully fledged At the mention of poetry, I had deigned to deny the ink A fear of being deemed feminine, had taunted my being My stanzas had become a guilty pleasure, I could not resist Years transpiring, before guilt became pride. My heart had been afforded a source of release I had been gifted a talent, to be honed Appreciation was not a given, but had grown A time of need, was announced with hope Depression I could not part with, but a reprieve I had found. Weeks into the year, and my footing I had lost The joyous monotony of writing had found absence My life had worn to a thread - a noose was seen an escape Will myself I could not, without another try A last attempt, reviving an unconscious passion.
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keshan
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
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