POETS' CORNER

Poems forever

Cloths of Heaven

By W.B.Yeats

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Ready to fight back

By Ayira Mamoon

You wouldn’t mind, right?

‘Cause I am now ready to fight.

You started it with a sword,

But I came back with a knife.

You stabbed me not once but twice,

And yet it took me a long time to realize.

We laughed and cried together,

Yet I never saw how distant we are from one another.

You took advantage of my soul,

And now you’ve left a bleeding hole.

You should’ve killed me there and then,

‘Cause you don’t know I’ll be your new nightmare when.

And now I’m standing here firm,

Determined more than ever not to return.

For your sword meant war to me,

And my knife means murder for the whole world to see.

Daily grind

By Amna Ameer

I’ve always felt this way

But never quite put words to it

No label to express it

Or the lack of free will to define it

My role has been given to me

Either misconstrued or premeditated

I’m not meant to say what I feel

I must only give a glimpse of a reflection

Of what I truly am

I am here but not really

Barren and left out

Like the fields after harvest

Resting but still questionable

At their strength to bear

Another season

Of blossom

Only I am to stare

At the funeral in my eyes

The weight of life that I carry

And the remnants thereby

How the missing pieces

Of a struggling broken spirit

Come together trying

To make ends meet

Trying to succumb

To the daily grind

How must one day pass after another

And I’ll be free of my mind

I can’t seem to anticipate

Day from night

There is no sense of self

Or how I must outlast time

I am left alone

With my thoughts

Without a cloak of comfort

Or a piece of advice

Only a shrug of discomfort

It must be best

If I let my words slide

Who wants to hear

A broken record sing

When the world is filled with melody

None for my heart within

I am only filled with silence

A grievance without a name

A grave with no tombstone

An address without a face