Beloufa Chahra


A new born poetess


I did not yet acquire some sweet readers,
To confess how loved my art lives free!
When I will die,
My soul will pass away
And my achievements will witness their birth
Because till today; I will be remembered
Remembered while I will possibly be away from that remembrance
Or even blind to see the commemoration of it!
It would be a fortunate late gift that glorifies negligence misfortune
Why can't you see me now?
A bit before fate sees it….
Do read me; your perceptions will make me travel to the land of resting;
Young flourishing poets!
How much hours shall I wait?
To smell the perfume of recognition
Praises are all sterile!
Give me a true incentive that fosters mine sensation
I am here, whispering to your future books!
With a complete confidence that I am read in silence.

Submitted: Friday, August 15, 2014

Topic of this poem: identity

Form:


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