Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
maggie W May 2014
My voice is a wall of glass
On the both side of the wall it's all the same

The roof is consisted of umbrella-shaped beams
The world is an embroidered web
I'm a spider that don't spew silk
cling on to intertwining iron bars
Accidentally chocked my fly to death
Buried it in the oblivion sky

Fed on chitchat
I'm now becoming a skinny,
wind up bird.
Translated from my uncle's poem
Michaela Apr 2014
I wasn't made to bend or fold
always knew what in my hands I hold.

There is always a choice
and never will I be afraid to use my voice.

Nothing can stop me
but why is it that I am not free?

What is it that I lack
that always holds me back?

All I ever wanted
was to paint my life red

Live loud
despite the silent crowd

Love freely
even if others thought it was silly

I wish I was brave enough to hold on to happiness
but this is the truth that nobody says:

You are only as happy as you choose to be
and making that decision is what sets you free.
Nandini Apr 2014
As time cant be caged into an hour glass.
Only if you could confine the Noor of the light itself into a jar
would a poet ever stop writing ...
Noor : meaning light itself.
Tell me can we ever stop writing ? The thoughts and words of a writer is like the sky you cant measure it cant get above it and cant reach it ... its endless!
any feedback ??
Next page