Hina Nasir Poet Sonnet

I Feed On It

When I knew what triggers writing
Quite relieved, I fed on it, like twitching
To keep this tormenting treasure alive,
It‘d healed but still in it, I dive,
Ran over it again n again,
My blood sheds like the rain
But stared on it like a blind,
This catastrophe doesn’t need to remind,
An old melody is enough for me to be blown,
But now, yes these dried eyes don’t moan
This treasure of gone needs not to be awaken,
When mocked on lost charm, like bitten,
I just wear that smile, yes memory of compliments still fumbles,
Though dead, but not forgotten, it in my heart rumbles!

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Kelly Deschler September 1, 2014 at 9:49 PM Sometimes, the inspiration to write can become lost, but the passion that every poet has in their hearts will never die!.... I really enjoyed this amazing poem, Hina. You have a beautiful and unique way of expressing your feelings. Nice work! Hina Nasir September 20, 2014 at 10:43 AM HYE kelly :-) , yes thats what exactly i meant , though we may miss the interest to write but we can write anytime we want ....thanks for sharing your thoughts ...thaniks for appreciation :-) seriously ..blush blush

M. Shahid H. Chouhdry August 31, 2014 at 2:45 AM Though dead, but not forgotten, it in my heart rumbles! Well Done, Perfectly managed ,Well written, How beautifully you mingle all the words in perfect ratio and rhyme. Hina Nasir August 31, 2014 at 10:53 AM THANKYOUSOMUCH :-)