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Sadaf Sultana Poem
Somewhere between learning to write and being known for writing,
I grew up!
Somewhere between going to bed on time and facing sleepless nights,
I grew up!
Somewhere between running after love and understanding it to be infatuation,
I grew up!
Somewhere between going crazy for new pens and using the same for the last infinite years,
I grew up!
Somewhere being trying to be pretentious and portraying myself as the REAL me,
I grew up!
Somewhere between treating people to be my best friends forever and accepting it to be a myth,
I grew up!
Somewhere between experimenting with new things and just giving up,
I grew up!
Somewhere between seeking help and doing it all by myself,
I grew up!
Somewhere between making everything a joke and placing myself in the latter's shoes,
I grew up!
Somewhere between placing requests and leaving things the way they are,
I grew up!
Somewhere between running for marks and training myself to enjoy life,
I grew up!
Somewhere between tears being my master and I overpowering my tears,
I grew up!
Copyright © Sadaf Sultana | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Sadaf Sultana Poem
Pretending to be someone,
Something, which in actuality, she was not.
Just her rotten luck,
When red handed- she used to get caught.
An 'evil dancer', as she was called,
Jingles thus compelling her to perform the same.
Preoccupied in her own way of prancing-
The main element of her gaining fame.
Struggles with knives and veggies,
Tussles o'er preparing a soup;
When all her efforts failed,
There ended up all the peels in a loop.
Picking up a pen, grabbing a sheet,
She therefore decided to change the humankind.
Sounds of snores with everything messed up,
On enquiring, this is what we find!
"Engrossed in pretending"- as many people would say,
'A trial of new things'- I really feel;
Not something she could, but something she wanted to,
Thankfully, not like the rotating wheel!
People, laughing?
Did she even bother to care?
While herself laughing them off,
It's a courageous act- though rare!
Copyright © Sadaf Sultana | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Sadaf Sultana Poem
The sun falling down,
The planetoids taking initiatives to twinkle,
Walking down the lane, I suddenly realised,
All my dreams, yet were wrinkled.
I remember, when I was five,
"Destine to become a doctor!", my father often used to say.
To handle medical weapons,
Imagining all this, brighter had become my days.
At round ten, coaxing me,
My mother said," Teaching should be your profession. "
Scolding kids, helping them when in need,
Each day would end up with a new lesson.
"A grown up you are,
Follow your dreams!".
Echoes could be heard,
While I'd just turned sixteen.
I often wonder,
What are 'dreams'?
Cherished aspirations -which in the mere future,
Can promptly be seen!
Copyright © Sadaf Sultana | Year Posted 2017
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