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Nigdaw Feb 2020
out on the mudflats
washed up by an angry sea
a shell remains
parched by the sun
a little bright paint
to remind whoever bothers to look
of the colour they once had
hauntingly beautiful shapes at dusk
ghosts with shrouded faces

there to block the estuary
a danger to shipping
of no use to anyone
but foolish romantics who see
the glory days gone by
a little sense of history, reverence
to the way things used to be

when they're gone
another age will discard the waste
of lonely  forgotten souls on the shoreline
Bohemian Feb 2019
Dost thee care for it which belongest not to you ?
Dost thee care for them who walk on wreckage as thou didst?
Why are the words misconstrued?
Why is the truth hard to you?
Ever that thou sowest
When yieldest the possibility of lowest
Measure thine life's circumference
Since thou revolvest most near the dark
Often it be the most absorbed
How thou mess with a mere sector
Yet the most of it collapsest
Sweating in the smoke to keep going
It requirest lest of a hope
Thee who dost not hear the screams
Cannot hear the sayings
Those qualms pushing to help that which benefits us nothing
To care for those who're going through that which we once nagged about
Those push and pulls could be the way to acumen
Sumaira Asghar Dec 2018
Do you sit in the corner,
and gaze around in greyness?
Does this universe too
smother your breaths?
Does pain palpate your wounds?
Do you yell over your own wrecks?
Are you as empty as I am?
Dear life, are you too lifeless?

— The End —