Talking to myself through poetry
Home » Poetical Subjects » Poems built around concrete actions » Dark Christmas
While your kitchens
Ooze fried chickens
And groceries
Are tall storeys
This Yuletide
I am that child
Compelled to cope
Having no hope
For baked salads
On Christmas day.
While your wardrobes
Are filled with clothes
As you complain
Of colours plain
And type of shoes
To match new gowns
This Yuletide
I am that child
That have nothing
But sad outing.
So high and loud were the screams At the point of confusion Many would wish the tension Was another scary dream. None cared about documents…
I followed flying butterflies as I craved But they landed me deep into a grave I bled right on the floor not just the pain…
Used to think a lot More of lust, no fault A big bum, big breast Pretty face, white teeth… Yet, one met no one Wired…
A special thank you to all philanthropists From east to west and north to south; Up the sky; freely the littlest of birds fly In…
E si!
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Sad but true… so touching poetry!
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While we celebrate let us remember the less privilege
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This is touching…
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Yea… While we celebrate let us remember the less privilege
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