(✔) credited and revised
poetry winner | WizzWrite Awards | Contest 01
He sat at the pub,
Smoking a cigar, trying to focus on the jazz played around -
Hurts doesn't it? The past, the way it breaks you down?
He had thoughts rankling up his mind,
The downpours paced with them.
A dying, deathly, destructive, damsel -
is how he describes his childhood.
He'd fly through the streets,
With his paper planes -
Listened to the wind dance along to foot taps -
But, in came a truck with khaki wearing men,
Grasped him and his family and his friends.
He saw tall chimneys, fenced huts and nausetic humans,
"Ma, are we going to stay with God?"He cried in jolly.
In days, he couldn't see his parents anymore.
They were suffocated;
So, they left him as their traces.
"Concentration camps,"He said to me while smoking.
"Was it my fate, Ms. Therapist? Is being you, a mistake?" He cried, evidence
shattered everywhere in despair, in pain.
There was so many things he'd tell me, but his lips were shut.
and his eyes told me more than his heart.
- Anurima Mukherjee
Your entry was truly beautiful.
The dedication of the poem as well as the general flow and feel of it was pristine; and that would certainly be in need of a better word to define the beauty of it.
I was honored to get to read such an entry, and for my contest nonetheless.
It was so carefully written, the lines seemingly inter-twining.
The references to life and general questions that we might all find ourselves wondering about was the silver lining on top!
A truly phenomenal piece by heartbreakswheather1D!
YOU ARE READING
𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼
Poetry~ 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨 ~ a poetry collection bringing you the most beautiful, complex and profound poems on this platform | all published poems are added and credited with the consent of the respective authors | "poems are thoughts that breathe and wor...
