Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nigdaw Mar 3
it is strange to see
irregular lines scrawled
across the page
in some small way I made them
helped to shape from where they came
then it slowly dawned on me
they could be better than anything
I have ever penned to page
Ari Mar 2018
No one seems to realize
Who I really am and all
The hurt inside me
Has been thoroughly hidden
Deeply within every poem
My exhausted hands have penned.
I’ve yet to be found.

-ARI
Smriti Ranabhat Nov 2017
Momma!
I am your poem.

From that mountain hole
Too many pains left
And from the island of the vexation
A little pleasure on the journey twinkle They made  a missiles
I was fabricated just below your heart
And I am the part of it

Just by planting a tree farm
Trouble dirts your hands
I was penned from composition of roughness
And I am the stanzza of it

Thunder thrown out of your eyes
They are more expensive than pearls
Drinking  nano water
I was  masterminded
And I am the Masterpiece of it

The debt too scared by itself
Searching for fertilizer tissue
Selling the blood of your own
I was painted from the words of penalty
And I am the same book of it

Momma ! I'm not a poetess
I am your poetry ....
I am the product of plenty of sufferings ,and vexation that momma suffers
I am her words falling and rolling in the real life   ,pattern of her language
And I am her whole book
Inaya Jun 2016
You reside in my eyes and flow through my tears, so I let you rest on my cheek for a while before you fall away from me.

— The End —