I can't stop this feeling—where did it go?
Can I be sick of the stuff going on?
An angry attitude keeps feeding my mind.
Words can be annoying to the soul.
This is an everyday indecent conversation.
My heart is beginning to just fade.
Should I just let it go,
Or should my feet walk the street?
The answer is minimal, but I need the max.
Let me just leave with happiness to be on my own.
I’m shattered,I won’t lie,
today has been long.
I’m tired yet awake,
can’t escape the throng.
Day light has ventured
and left while I worked,
The night has arrived now,
still never I shirked.
My eyelids are heavy,
my limbs they are tired,
And still on I toil now,
my time’s not yet expired.
Grateful am I
for the work that I do.
But soon I’ll be bidding
A ‘good night’ to you.
Contest: Connect the dots
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Date: 31.01.2026
Lethargic languorous leanings ~
Lilting life, like legato,
Abrupt arpeggios alarm
an agitant afternoon,
Bleary brain breathing ballad beats,
Belting burnt out broken blues.
Black without a mask
What would it look like to be black without a mask?
Would it look like freedom?
Or would they laugh?
At our attempt to be ourselves
To feel like we can tell the world
That we are fighting back
That we are tired of being attacked
That we are human and you should respect that
Maybe it would feel like a weight removed
Like entering a sunlit room
Like when flowers finally bloom
Like when the sky shows you the moon
And you know it's time to for bed
And you can rest your head
After a long day That had you stressed
What would it feel to burn that mask ?
Would it feel cathartic
Being black and being free from the curse of having to act robotic
In a world that wants us to shrink
And overthink our emotions
Maybe it would feel like letting go of a deep breath
Or waking up from a nap refreshed
If only racism didn't exist
We wouldn't have to dream of this
We'd have the privilege
Of freeing our emotions
White Ted looked flat;
that hair and pyjama bed smell.
She was getting heavier
My bleary eyes trying not to sleep.
Bone protruded from flesh,
blooded the seat and gearstick;
leaning in best I could
to cannulate, set up drip by torchlight
as Firefighters started cutting.
She smiled and tightened her grip;
I kissed her forehead
still feeling the bitter cold.
Fluorescent coat bulkily hindering
as cracking metal sheered;
dressing the open bloody carnage.
Suddenly toast popped up,
"Have a good day at school" I said,
fighting my tiredness.
The mangled wreck still lingered
as I put my daughter down,
heading for bed, another shift tonight.
My eyes hurt as I awake
When a lack of sleep attacks me
Another difficult time waking up
Although, less difficult than the last
I struggle to keep my cogs working,
As I leave the comfort behind
And start anew
The old lonely basket weaver
Keep weaving in a moody silence
Great soul always suffers silence
One eyed after an accident
Do a living by weaving baskets
Children are awed into silence too
Weaving baskets
The bamboo pieces
Criss crossing
No carelessness or else fingers hurt
Only hard work, pains, tiredness and sorrows
Being criss crossed tight and firm
No one can help and disturb
Silence speaks the loudest voice
No whispers
I hope God will help him
In his solemn silent world
Eclipse
without sun
I am etiolated,
enfeebled, bereft
my backbone heavy
and limp,
muscles stale and indurate
from disuse
I try to lift my face,
feel the light,
even the dawn or dusk,
even when fog would cloud my vision
but I cannot move, for
my neck is fixed,
vertebrae seized, locked,
eyes that can do no more
than stare ahead
at this monolith, this
menhir, present since
I can remember
that ages me, leaves me
threadbare and faded,
as a moth-eaten blanket
fails to sustain a warm embrace
so I shiver in the shadow,
ensnared in this eclipse,
this dark moon
that will not detach me
from its bleak orbit
Sphinx
this ugly, amorphous monster is
stalking me again
loathsome, foul blackened heart
half-eaten by vicious, resentful loathing
it feeds on me, tears me,
rips into my viscera,
fanged words perverse and savage
scalding my insides,
scouring me –
not clean, but raw and used,
the filthy residue left by its path
clinging to my insides,
making me cough, choke
trying to vomit out this clot
I am haunted by this cursed abomination,
my bête noire
that stalks me like a snarling dog,
mouth dripping with rage and rabid with fear
that seeks to blot me out, eradicate me,
efface me until I am become the
Sphinx, worn away by time and stinging sand
I used to scrub my memory clean
I packed the sadness
Into an old cupboard
Before I packed my tiredness
Into the night
And slept soundly
I locked the rain and the wind outside
I never let the cupboard open nor let the sun in
Hoping that the sadness will degenerate and walk away
With the old days
And with the old cupboard
When the garbage truck comes by one day
A headache is not
Simply healed with a pill
When it happens to be
A gigantic problem without a solution
A non-ending pile of work accumulating
A deadline without any bonus of time
A state of tiredness without a break
And so a headache lingers on
Until a decision is reached tomorrow
From birth to middle age
Tell tale signs sending us into a rage
Not knowing what to expect
Slowly approaching wondering what comes next
Hot flushes to mood swings
I wish someone would have told me these things
Trying to find a way to cope
Visits to the doctor for a glimmer of hope
Feelings of anxiety and despair
Searching for remedies it’s so unfair
Balancing hormones to reach a safe place
Tiredness constantly it shows on our face
Family life disrupted on a daily basis
Looking for normality researching cases
Always saying sorry to the ones, we love
Will it work out is it enough
This subject has caught my attention
when one night I hardly slept at all
one day I suffered extremely sore back
realising both had a pain even for the tall
After that night of little sleep for me
the next day I was tired like never before
it felt like a pain from deep within
dragging me down paining my inner core
I cried from within so agonising
feeling this was so very real
the back pain now seemed nothing
compared to this tired I now feel
Every bone felt like desiring to cry
running over my skin was many a tear
the wetness of tears so shocking
my inner self recoiled felt real fear
The next day brought inner revival
a good night's sleep was exactly my need
felt now within real joy and relief
tire no more, gone now I'm free
in summer twilight
cattle run to shed with dust
tired cowboy with stick
-Thursday, June 13, 2019 Chattogram
i've grown weary
of this story
growing
weary
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name
and I can't remember why I came
I'm fearful for the leaving
can't seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day
and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face
sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again
and again
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