I know not why I do
As i do know
Empty my hearts contents:
Open to you now
Maybe I had have enough
Enough of trying to learn myself
I might be pleading you aid
Aid to know my true self
The self none sees
Deep within where no eye falls
Beneath the fair skin
Beneath the layers of flesh
Try and delve deep
Deep to help me find me out
I have lent my voice
My inner private voice away
My only speech troubles only you.
Only your patient ears
Stranger though you are
I tire you with the task
You may have no need of me
I know
Yet,
I go on
On and on
Not knowing why you
A stranger,of all beings......
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These are my original poems...You might even wonder about the evident dab of sorrow in most of the poems.I agree to this vice; I guess it stems from the fact that most of my poems are written either when am sad or troubled by loneliness....not that I haven't felt like jotting my pleasurable moments into poetry too...Yet when am happy,how do I make myself sit in a place and jot anything...At those happy moments I like singing and being with people who matter the most to me....
1 comment:
Your poems resembles me the great lines of Emily Dickenson and Silvia Path, Great imagery, unveil the heart as much as you can, then you can find the real passion of writing
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