Poetry - Page 2

All the flashbacks have echoes, the running feet, the stampede untold, my veins bleeding with punch rush as I sit between your legs,The blonde streak and the green shirt, my pinks and your fences.You won’t be home in Spring, they think I

Flying I felt the Spring breezeSaw some lilies dancing roundWhile I touched the sky. On Growing Just like a saplingNeeds the sun, so do I needThe rain to grow high. Strength To smile is a costTo weep comes easily stillBut both make

On some nights, walking along thedeserted streets, grief chokes me likethunder that ravishes the sky.The lonely clouds gather aroundmy windowpane like a widowClad in white, sobbing rains into my heart.The moon is lost in the elegies of the night.In the eternal silence,

I refuse to be confined within the defined walls of identity.I don’t want these predetermined labels to define.The claustrophobia in my head space remains a massive threat.Always urging me towards the uncharted territories of freedom.Where authenticity thrives without the shackles of conformity.In

Let me fetch the courage to live,From the well on the outskirts of my city,Where the forest casts its long shadows,When the night spreads her soft velvet cloak Let me fetch the strength from its depthsTo not give up on myself right

I want to tell you,How much I have suffered.How much I have endured.Will YOU listen to me?I saw her drinking vials of tears every day,With blood dripping from her forehead,And bruises on her body.He ripped off her hair,Still, she didn’t utter a

It was a usual day,Morning brought the cuckoo callAnd your temple broke itself For a while, it made me thinkHow far you had walked for this thingHow many hours it took you to bring this homeTo you, to me, to usAnd then

I long for a home that never was– HiraethHere I am again with a glass shard in handWishing to walk on a painless pathAt the end of this torturous road lies a home. Right? Her voice in me saysHis shoe crushing your

Slid past the scarlet driveanchored on days sanewith a whimsical strain of melody sadharbouring the mind. Lovely sights of days wildgathered on follicles of growthentailing prophesyamidst seasons of hope. Majestic pride overweening:huddled the Self and Souldragging drudgery to the holereadily buried in

Renounce, renounce and renounce!All that makes me feellike a frantic caged bird,fluttering and shriekingfor escape —— from the morselsIt feeds upon,from its own filththat pollutes the cage,and from the gentle breezethat mockingly caresses its trapped wings!

I didn’t know what decade meantthe year I turned ten. The yearI turned ten, we moved housesand went from two rooms on anupper floor to three rooms onthe ground. I had only just learnedwhat one’s own house meant. Knowing this meant little.The

Today, in a meetingOne of my colleaguesWas euphemistic ofHer non-diplomacy; initiallyI was astounded, awestruck!With the flatteryBut it was no puffery.The expression came naturally.Not being euphemistic,The kudos was for a fighter,In a society whereWomen are harassedBy raping gazeAs a sex toy, andThe only

It is Always the Same Sunless Season HereBlack, overhanging clouds growl and smotherNot one piercing ray of lightThe silent river is desperate for a gleam,The lake beyond craves just a sparkle of lightA dance of sunbeams, just snatches stolen awayThe leafless trees

If I’m honest, I downplayed my beauty as generic asian features to try and dissipate some confused expressions at a spin-the-winebag-on-the-Hills-Hoist-party If I’m honest, I have goldfish lips and matching protruding eyes. I see men wave with zealous shouts of nihao and I always