Category: Poem

Poets

They used words

for weapons,

while we

used  words

on wounds…

 

Poetry was

our honey,

for them it was more salt.

 

Their bodies broke

all over poems

while our souls

broke into our own…

 

 

Yet,

they wrote

and called them

poems,

while our poetry

kept us warm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Geography

llxh60zlwyyrkpg5dn1aStrangely enough,

my ribs

had given

my heart

enough geography lessons

on finding yours,

though your nights and

my day played

a game of

hide and seek…

 

 

I counted stars

like seconds

that were left

till you

came home,

as you drove

into Sunsets

that turned into

sunrises

at my end…

 

Then we raced time,

from the hands

of your clock

to the scattered signals

of my telephone,

to the half drunk teacup

we fell asleep on,

until

missing you

felt like

first love

on my heart strings.

Letters to my future daughter- I

Darling if

he’s the right kind of wrong,

you will make love just

by holding hands.

He’d touch your soul

before touching your body,

as he treats you

like a shrine.

He’d pick wild daisies

from the roadside

and leave on your porch

just to see your smile.

Like a prayer

he’d say he loves you,

and toast your name

with each glass of wine.

You will laugh so well,

once he learns to love you,

when the time is right

it will be worthwhile..

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