The wind blows your words to my deaf ears,
and I wonder,
where have you been all this while?
I grew up believing I slipped
through a hole in the sky
to trudge this sand.
My mates went to school,
but I stayed back, always waiting for bells to ring
and bring them back on pitch
to kick the round play joy.
My father debarred my scents
from seeping through his walls
because of his wife.
So I thought I was like our Saviour—
only that unlike Him, I have neither mother nor father.
I took to the street,
and it welcomed me.
It groomed me
and taught me how survival looks like.
I made it big through the backdoor.
But here you are,
telling me you are my mother.
From whence did I come—off the hole in your womb?
Mama… or mama-to-be…
please let me know.
A door dwelled, but was written on it,
“Thou shalt not”.
It stood on the 4th floor like a ghost,
Threatening with a piercing signpost.
“Does the door dwell, or not?”
Was the question that passers-by raised;
What took place in the back room yet
Was a mystery that insiders, too, knew not.
Hushed voices hissed outside a lot,
Yet shrill bewail inside smothers that,
For the door debarred entrance or exit,
Deluding those from in and out.
Door was too high for those out
And it was just a silly wall, a rampart
for those in, and it teased to be a support,
Yet subdued claims, or pains that hurt.
The door didn't dwell for entry or exit
But stood simply as a towering ghost.
*6th Place* in the following contest (judged on Sept. 21, 2020)
Sept. 20, 2020
The Fourth Floor Of Nowhere Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: craig cornish
Crying pitiful face of Earth
Wailing beneath the darkened skies
Bubbling tears pouring down her saddened eyes
Yearning to be freed from troll's cries
Still in learning she is, to be debarred from lies!
Dark and desolate is her centre
Gloomy and dull is her lather
Yet, tolerant and adamant is her temper
For her call is to be a loving and a doting mother
Such a fate she accepted from a tray, Oh so Silver!
Enduring the devilish nature of her common kin
She bears selflessly with them even if they bask in sin
And does her best to give them a life devoid of sores
Without reproach, she fulfils her chores
Never expecting anything in return for her lost ores!
Delightful she was at the time of Creation
Distressful she will be at the time of Destruction
Graceful she shall be at the time of Rejuvenation
Forgiveness she will grant to those enjoyers!
For a tender heart she has acquired throughout the years!
Crying pitiful face of Earth
I pray, have Patience with all Its Worth
So that Eternal Life shall flow in Your Soul
And dazed shall we all be in Your enthrall
Even if Your tender heart with iron is now mold!
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