Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2018 Miracle Beyond Me
Emily
Sudden gasps.
Deep breaths for air.
A question.
Do they really care?

The thump.
Hammering in my chest.
A question.
Who knows of me best?

A shine.
Glistening in my eye.
A question.
Can they make me cry?

A smile.
Widening on my face.
A question.
Is it out of place?

A question.
Should I dare ask?
The happiness.
Was it a mask?

Everything,
Stopping
Gasping
Thumping
Shining
Smiling

A stop.
Preventing me of breath.
A question,
In fold a feather,
footprint of petals,
a book of old pages
I count
and found
the story of forgotten Lenore
that never return anymore

@Musfiq us shaleheen
In memory of Edger Allan Poe
.
Someone calling from the front
I want to go
when I looking back
Someone calling with my old name
Now I wander
where I will go
neither I go to the front
nor back
.
.@Musfiq us shaleheen
in the night whom bed is separated
for whom the lovely moon waited
for whom the wise words uttered
forever the named door shuttered

night's melancholy on the edge
lonely bird in the heavy cage
In the hopeless sky,
a romantic blue sapphire,
A fused bright star of the last year

whatever you share, whatever I share
whether we are far or near
certainly both under deep dark cover
yet to understand who was the lover

I press the dark if things to uncover
maybe impossible the days to recover
away a future, far from the good night
under the lens a lazy haze light

@Musfiq us shaleheen

25th December 2017
As I climb into bed
snow is softly falling
diagonally blown by breezes north
a layer of uneven crystals forming
on veranda tiles

an apricot sky of even hue
the only visible sight
the birch
its tresses gently rising
shaking
pointing down south west

I’ll let the weather carry on
as I must sleep till dawn
know that night is passing there
without the curtains drawn

Margaret Ann Waddicor 27th November 2017 ©
A poem is
a diary of things seen
memories woken

the moment in the brain
when these things correlate
gel into a thought
become synchronised

a symbiosis
of all that one is at the time
an expression of existence
in the now of life

personified
described
intensely controlled
subtly born

Margaret Ann Waddicor 30th August 2017

A poem isn't

A banal expression of every day life
it isn't a substitute either
or a cure for some disease of the mind
it isn't an alternative to anything else
it isn't a final solved statement of reality
an equation fixed

it isn't meant to be other than itself
and within it are meanings it hasn't got
only those it engenders
it cannot define life
although on studying it
you can find a hypothesis of life

a meaning that might resemble others
ideas of life but isn't the whole story
it isn't what it isn't
or what it is expected to be

it just is
like music
measuring moments
concretising glimpses of that life
the life of one individual
a poet

Margaret Ann Waddicor 11th September 2017
I was happy once,
when her heart was still beating
It's funny how she was pierced,
but I was the one bleeding
Next page