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Metaphor Nostalgia Poems | Metaphor Poems About Nostalgia

These Metaphor Nostalgia poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Nostalgia. These are the best examples of Metaphor Nostalgia poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sijo | |

Thistle Solitude-- Visual No 1

I had briefly caught sight of the other side of yesterday, blinded by the sun, and weaving through the deep, thistle solitude. I'll carve a path through thorns and flowers, to reach an old memory.
Inspired by Andrea's Contest: Glorious Sijo Fields 1/31/15 Visual Number 1

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Moon bridge

The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.



Internal rhyme
Imagery
Assonance
Alliteraton
Repetition
Synesthesia

Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

River of Dreams

I dreamed of a river last night - it seemed to laugh
as it carved through the ancient landscape giving life to all things
(or was it just tears streaming down your face?)



Written February 17th, 2016
For the River of Dreams Contest hosted by Poet Destroyer

Placed in 7th

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012

Details | Imagism | |

A MOTH, A PORCH LIGHT, ALONE IN AN OPEN WINDOW---

A MOTH, A PORCH LIGHT, ALONE IN AN OPEN WINDOW--- Owning up to his shortfalls may be his most difficult task. Tomorrow mirrors that reflection. In thought, he begins his introspection. Standing looking out the open window, a moth distracted his attention. He turned on the porch light thinking about how he was always alone. He did not know why he kept the window open all night. His analysis found he feared the unknown. “May I concentrate in a philosophical mode? Winter is coming fast and I do not want to be out in the rigid cold. Sometimes I wonder why my mind has grown old.” Larry had been a recluse for the last ten (10) years or so. He was a nature walker and he wrote poems. He was an electrician by trade and skilled in masonry. He had designed beautiful architect. His hands provided him an inventor’s intelligence. However, Larry was always down. He did not see the open window he looked out. He felt that the doors had closed. That he had lost his stance in the world. Therefore, he caught moths in a jar and watched them wanting freedom to fly. As he stood on the porch alone, a spirit appeared standing in his open window. The moths were attracted to the light. He fanned a moth away from his eyes. Therein, he felt his eyes were deceiving him; therefore, he looks toward the open window once again. A noise he hears. He wakes up wet. His night fever was on. He was a pallor of fits. His sleeping had embraced his condition and the clatter had awaken him within. His demented state of being demeaned. He reminisced. He ruminated the moth while standing under his porch light alone but in his open window stood a pack of coyotes. |_________________________________________________________________| Penned on November 01, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.



Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Autumn Affect

There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench 
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy 
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home

Copyright © Jesse James Forster | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic | |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
 
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.

Copyright © Onis Sampson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

the love we had seemed so far away

i look to stars and wishes flew through space never to be heard again
fun to friends hearts do meld and break facing until time ends
this loop that plays and beats that syncopate become but a gem
pleasure a chest opened in surprise feeling no need to defend
galaxies away lonely planets  please keep me in mind
 distance could grow something fond or lost between the lines
gps my love you can see  its still where I  left it behind
thoughts fade away with life love lives forever in my rhyme

Im sorry, I wanted more,with  all this space between
disconnected and I still look to that day
we talked on the phone, our separate homes
the love we had seemed so far away

without air i couldnt breathe squeezed until I'm passing by
no water flow my skin would dry and I return to the sky
sunny days would blacken out, attracting need for desperate lies
to make up for the beauty lost from death slowly closing my eyes
that fire once sparking motion snuffed in huffs slipping away
dwifting I sway shaky grounds where once I sat easily and stay
upon my feet I still float drowning out all thoughts that stray
Tho these ends can come swift its worse to miss and hear you say

Im sorry, I wanted more,with  all this space between
disconnected and I still look to that day
we talked on the phone, our separate homes
the love we had seemed so far away

down the road,flying free, I ride the wave and hope for your return
through several seas and cloudy peaks, storms of sand, I will not turn
helpless to fate and future events, nothing prevents something to learn
  sights may not sore, nothing much looking more, isn't my concern
I hope the best and happyness is true to bless you, not just in dreams
we can meet when we sleep discussing life while sleeping seems
thanks for trying Im not exactly dying, banes of  sentient beings
real enough moving on is rough, i'll love you forever, writting my means

Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry | |

Butterfly

I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...


Written By: Christina A McCullouch 
04/09/2013

Copyright © Christina McCullouch | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Imagism | |

The Red Symphony

A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.

They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief 
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf 
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.

From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare: 
Carnati - sausages  kept in special aromatic smoke 
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears 
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost; 
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail, 
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
                                                                              
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled 
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled 
 And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.

This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
 
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it  the pickles cucumbers jar.)

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Only in You

Through the lonely woods, I may head,

Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,

At the secluded horizon, I may stare,

And only you, I may see,

In those symphonies of silence,

In those melodies of calmness,

In those euphonies of quietness.

 

By the silent lake, I may lay,

Till the twilight fades, I may stay,

Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,

And only to you, I may talk,

Through those toungueless emotions,

Through those wordless attachments,

Through those voiceless sentiments.

 

In the lone meadow, I may wander,

Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,

In companionless seclusion, I may hide,

And only in you, I may find,

The depths of oneness,

The bonds of togetherness,

The cozy feel of coalescence.

 

In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,

At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,

Through a million wounds, I may bleed,

And only in you, I may seek,

The balm of love,

The warmth of affection,

The heal of inseparability.

Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Departing Memory

I know you.
Candles lit, incense fuming,
You like it when I bite your neck, just hard enough.
Blankets thrown about the room
So recklessly, they refold themselves.

And we roll down a hill together,
Kissing the leaves, tickling with our eyes,
Laughing with our hearts.
"You'll just leave me for the next girl you find."
"Yes," I say. Because only
Nothing
Lasts forever.
And it spills through the cracks in your hands
The moment you grasp it.
Like water from a stone.
She bites my neck
Drawing lines of ecstasy down my back with her fingernails
Spilling into me, fighting my words.
"I leave when the sun sets."



Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |

grey

we see black as a sad color, and white as bright and happy.
but what is grey?
to me
its the in-between, obviously.
its the rope. 
its timid
its the falling asleep at 9:30 pm
and falling asleep at 4 am
its light rain
its jumping in puddles
its coming home and smelling the fire waiting for you 
in the fireplace
it has wisdom
it has been stuck in-between 
the black and white
the right and wrong
the good and bad for a long time
its the soft smile.
its taking yourself out on a date 
its wandering a city alone,
for a purpose
its being alone, but not being lonely
but, it can also be the lump in your throat.
or 5 am, but when you stay up, not wake up
its the sun and the moon trying to catch up to each other
a definition written 
its expecting you to fit into impossible standards like a shoe cinderella’s stepsister’s feet
its a whole generation of cinderellas with no glass slipper.
its a poem with no end.

Copyright © julia mitchell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

Love's Touch

Love’s Touch

the first touch was tentative,
the scent tantalizingly different,
the sounds and nuances yet to
be experienced, known, trusted.

she was beautiful, firm, curvaceous,
polished, but not yet refined, not
yet molded by the necessities of
moving in fluid oneness.

time, and practiced repetition,
would embrace them, join them,
meld them into a flawless fluidity,
caress the contours of their differences.

he cherished every moment of this
first love, touched, caressed, held,
gazed at the texture and sheen
of his olive skinned love.

they spent long winter nights
exploring the subtle contours
of the other, investigating the
intricacies of intimacy

they knew this was a perfect fit,
a seamless bond had been fashioned,
a desire to face the future together
to place one hand in the other

thus they stood on that spring day
hand in hand, facing the future,
dreaming of its wonders
when those magic words were spoken.,,,




…….PLAY  BALL!!!


John G. Lawless
9/20/2014

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.




Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |

What Would He Have Me Do

If he were still here - What would he have me do - Not just clean and pick up after him. Not just cook and smile at him. Not just do all that a wife needs to, but just be all through and through. This is what he'd have me do.

Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof 



 I felt my finger nails digging into his back 
What an intensified sexual moment 
I never knew that tears could roll 
Down the cheeks of a robust man 

he wept! he sigh! he came 
Again, and again and again 
was it a sportsmanship or 
an injury cat on a Hot Tin Roof? 

Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

My Dearest Brother And I

My Dearest Brother And I

I want the wall of divide to fall apart and
Forget we're cousins, born of different parents
We are the children God made for love
Now the parents of children teaching only love above all.

Lets once again remember our childhood pleasures
When I holding the hand of my baby brother
Walked over the red gulmohar carpets
Running and playing in our grandpa's garden.

Lets remember the fun with your friends
Holding small bats but too heavy for the hand 
Hitting with all your might and happily
Frightening our basking cocks and hens.

Lets, once again, forget we are grown-ups, and 
Sprinkle the plants with our overflowing love-cans
And share secret smiles at the nest filled eggs
We discovered in our shrubs.

Lets hide and watch the woodpecker
Hammering his long beak into the the huge trunks
Of the goliath gul-mohar, frilled with white and blue orchids
Dancing in the breeze upon its hardly delicate waistline.

Lets reminiscence our childhood love
When I bathed you, brushed your hair, buttoned your collars
To march you to school, sharing home-work with my overtired brother,
Reading you out fairy-tales before tucking you to bed.

Lets cherish, for the joy of love, when you and I were sharing our togetherness
Caring for each other, with pleasures undefined
Childhood is a dream, youth we have surpassed,
Our present bond I hold fervently, my dearest brother, above all temporal frays.

nivember 29, 2015
Contest: Open Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Charlotte Jade Pudifoot

Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015

Details | Monorhyme | |

Stolen Tears

her stolen tears fall in peace
veiled from a world that will not cease
her knitted brows now show their crease
as she weeps into her comforting fleece
nothing can slow their rapid increase
as they finally find their release…


~Inspired by the wonderful Monorhyme by Nette Onclaud "Black Tears"~

Nette,
You are an amazing poet and you are missed here every day.
I hope that these words find you well and that you will be back 
to inspire more of us here at the Soup!

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

responding back to her

something I had said 
is better than the ringing 
in my worn ear drum

Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epyllion | |

You Take Me Back

You take me back to a time
A time when I ran alongside the wind 
And felt my hair caress my cheeks and my skin
A time when life was so joyous and bright
That if I had just one wish
I’d go back to those nights

You take me back to that feeling
Of undeniable joy
And not a trace of hesitation
Or thoughts of desperation
But only a spark and a light
Of the highest vibration

You take me back to the wander
And curiosity I had back then
When everything was magic
And we had no limits or boundaries
Just dreams and passion
Of how we’d reach them

You take me back to the colourful days
When the road was not long enough
And replying songs made the way
More fruitful, and conversation was
Deep and thoughts so beautiful


You take me back to that laughter
Where my stomach would cramp
And my eyes would tear
All those memories we made
Would mesmerized me  
And just like that 
You just take me back

Copyright © Shakeela Kingzley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands

From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands.
Comely words of comfort put the comma in the gray;
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands.

Hesitating white clouds meet the night`s dark commands,
But bring the dawn`s serenity for the a golden bay;
From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands

Luminous black jack oak stopped the moving sands;
The winding road might have danced on the hills` clay;
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands


Recollections` last wave in the glass blowers` light stay,
Smiling from Spring Lake to Thistle Shimmer`s way, 
From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands, 

Pine Barrens` silken grasses are kissed by birds of height,
Chateau Inn looks at the grave laurel and blueberry gay, 
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands.
In Paradise, rivers flow under Blueberry Month` sight.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Personification | |

Pen

I am a cheap pen, living
In your pencil box, which you keep unlocked
So that someone steals, cause a new one rocks
I have been, used to write letters that you didn’t mean
Your ignorance is not a hidden thing
Call me a link/linc between God and human beings
As I write lies, which are truly seen/sin
As truth, I put dots on a paper
Still you love the costly pens,
You honor them as your savior
Clever, the way you favour
The one with a branded name on it, remember
When you bought a new one from open market
By exchange of words, I was, brokenhearted
Day by day it turned out to be a growing burden
Knowing I am unwanted
Throwing up on a book, I vomit, ink comes out
Before he died, did Lincoln shout?
 No he died, with a dream living in the pocket of his coat
A pen to represent him, present in presidential quote
So I write, knowing that no one will go through my note
My paper floats like a boat, frightened boat
On my tears, all these years, all of this enlightened road
Full of water and mud, what else you want?
Will write till my ink dries and nibs get blunt
But someone takes credit of what I write, I am not a born fighter
I am a mechanical ghostwriter
I could, make the world look, more brighter

Copyright © Soumyadeep Kanji | Year Posted 2015