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As if no one cares
So many things happening around
Not a cause of concern
Till the time they are affected
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
I am not jealous
of what came before me.

Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your ******* and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth
to start our life!
In the end,
Only the little bird stands,
Alone,
Amidst the carnage.
The little bird,
Who flew away,
Away from the blood,
Away from the hate.
Now he stands,
Amongst the ruin,
Amongst the dead.
Hear his song,
For in the end,
Only the little bird stands.
...a song of war...
Reading poetry doesn't fill voids
We sit still in fear of falling
Dwelling in the dark
A shallow attempt at masochism
When blood doesnt suffice
...please...
Hands creep up
Eyes look down
Blouses fall
Nations shout
Sit still, sit still
Through it all
Little girl,
The madness
The media
The justice
The rave
Sit still sit still
Through it all,
The politics
The disgust
The dismissal
The frowns
Sit still sit still
Through it all
little girl
sit still sit still
*Through it all
...satire
Blue was her
favorite color
like his
monday shirt
every morning
she glided
through
the stairwell
down the
alleyway
by the riverside
one glance
and in her head
she felt
the blue confetti
scatter and waft
around her
the feeling
was blue
and *magical
1.
377, those numbers were a shame to him
“The crime is your ardor,” they said,
“You’re not our son,” they said,
“Let’s escape,” HE said.

2.
"I don’t wish the pain I felt on anyone
except them
I don’t wish the loss I suffered on anyone
Except them
No one saw the blood or heard me shriek that day
Except them
I deserve my vengeance
So we all can feel secure and alive
Except them"

3.
I always dreamt of those girls carrying bags
Crossing the stream to sit by the shade
Beautifully scripting those letters with chalk
Mesmerized by those abundant numbers
Appa finally brought me a bag today,
To script those letters, count those numbers.
To chase the person I’ve longed to be.

4.
“Did you fall again, ma?”
My tear lightly touched those tiny fingertips
“Be careful,” she whispered softly.
He glared at me with those cold hard eyes
Was I to lie again? Was I to protect a monster?
Enough. Tolerance had its bounds.
I swept her into my arms and didn't turn for that last look.

5.
Had I moved a little, the bullet would’ve grazed my shoulder
But it plunged straight into my heart
Had I run for cover, a brother would be sacrificed
Had I been a hero, by taking lives, I’d never sleep again
Today I was a hero, by giving my own
I now hope to perpetually sleep in peace.

6.
“Why must you say Old-age home with such distaste?
Those adorable little ones love me, I know
But I’m allowed to live my life
I want to be around those who understand me
I want to grow old amongst friends
I want to travel, to play, and to feel young
Perhaps maybe even fall in love, again?"
Independence is relative, it's individualistic. It's a way of living life.
The little anecdotes are from Indians finding their freedom. Happy Independence Day.
I'm not that girl who always fits in,
the girl who always seems to belong.

I'm not that girl who people look up too,
the girl that everyone loves.                

I'm not that girl who is pretty,
the girl who got all the luck.

I'm not that girl who boys want to date,
The girl with so much charm.

I'm not that girl and I never will be...
I'm just some girl that wants to be THAT girl

— The End —