Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
With the burden of a million curses,

she scuffs in an unflagging way,

fondling zillions as it passes,

the aroma of hope it does spray.

What if time complies with us?

What if she ceases to budge ?

What if she gives in to our pleadings?

What if she doesn’t move even if we nudge?

With time sufferings would linger,

tears ceaselessly would wet your face,

that ” time almost heals everything”

would not descend to embrace.

Your wounds wouldn’t metamorphose to scars,

contusions would continue to reek,

pain would mangle you in its grip,

recovery, from none you can seek.

Despair would clad you eternally,

you will find no light at the tunnel’s end,

darkness would compel you to succumb,

no ray of hope would glisten to amend.

The woes of ailing men wouldn’t stop,

they would dangle on their death beds,

time wouldn’t pass rewarding salvation,

making you realise how tarrying time dreads.

Sorrow would prevail for good,

worries would always conjure up,

a wait would end no more,

an ocean would never come of a drop.

Joy wouldn’t replace despondency,

neither well being, malaise,

spring wouldn’t follow winter,

neither clarity , haze.

The crux of life is transience,

perpetuity we can’t endure,

let time slither as she does,

for each agony she’ll leave a cure.
We call time selfish, sadist, slit and what not. Amidst all these curses it continues to move , unaffected by any of our words . But if one day time stops, then will the consequences be favourable ?
A poet with a poem purely made of glass
Holds on to it dearly as each day shall pass
Waiting for that moment to simply let it go
For the poem will only shatter onto the minds who wish to know.
Hawa Mar 2019
I miss the places I never been before.
I like the bands which haven't made yet.
I connect with the people I have never met.
I talk to people who are not there.
I can remember the incidents which never occurred.
I hear the noises which were never made.
l forgive people who never ask for apologies. I forgive them for the mistakes they never made.
I try to find the answers to the questions never asked.

I feel guilty about the mistakes I never did.
I fight for the wars which haven't started yet.
I yearn for the islands which haven't been discovered so far.
I worship idols who aren't perfect.
I follow the priest who doesn't preach.
I follow the preachings which haven't been taught yet.
I feel the emotions which haven't been named yet.

I miss the love I never had.
Kaukokaipuu: People of, say, Irish descent who have never actually been to the country of their ancestry may still experience an unexpected ache for it, as if they miss it — a strange, contradictory sort of feeling, as you can’t really miss someplace you’ve never been. But the Finnish recognize that the emotion exists, and they gave it a name: kaukokaipuu, a feeling of homesickness for a place you’ve never visited. It can also mean a kind of highly specified version of wanderlust, a “craving for a distant land” — dreaming from your desk about some far-off place

My poem doesn't necessarily depict the same emotion or may be none at all but this was the word I found to be closest to my poem. If you find the exact name for my emotions help me out and let me know, so that will become my word of the day. ;)
Next page