You!
_____By Aranna Hasan Delwar.
What you call rain is not rain
my tears
And what you call fountain, it is actually
River flowing through my chest.
You call it volcanic lava
It is the clotted blood of my wounded heart.
What you call drought is my burning
thirsty mind
If you listen to my chest -
The sound of huge hammers can be heard
Which is constantly tearing me apart.
With a piece of frozen water in hand
When you feel cold
Then my scared body sweats alone
fear of losing you
What you call light, align yourself with that light, it is not light-
That is the fire that burns my dreams.
What you call moon astrology,
That is the apple of my eye.
About the Creator
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More stories from Aranna Hasan Delwar and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
By Richard Weber3 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
This poem absolutely wowed me, it is fabulous!