My Birthday
My birthday my birthday, the day has come
On her own back, carrying little memories
The memories of angst, storms come home
My birthday precedes, the possible labour
Holding my tummy, turning to sob
Holding my back, anxious to rob
For the empty tummy, labour feels better
My birthday precedes, the possible labour
Better the actual day, when mother delivered
For the real labour, short-lived than hunger
For that longing, was just short-lived
My birthday precedes, the possible labour
When will they come? Sons and daughters
Decently dressed men, to sing and clap
Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!
My birthday precedes, the possible labour
Hilarious was I born, on a golden thorn
That pierces kingishly, that torments my heart
For people sing to dance, benchmark to torn
My birthday precedes, the possible labour
The society is not, a round-shaped table
For people to sit, to sing and dance
Differences are busy, imparting the worst
My birthday is not, not sung and chanted
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
