I’m trapped in whorls of smoke
A life dissolves in delusions
A soul bound on dreams’ yoke
A flame is lit in the darkness of self
The ghost of me lurks around
And I puff away my life myself
A death in life, a being flawed
Between poles of pain and pleasure
My soul’s torn apart, O God!
Every poet enjoys this bliss of pain or the eccentricity of pangs inexplicable. Your soul is never torn apart and Yasmeen, you too are just experiencing the short spell of a poetic eccentricity when you write on and the sweet pain we may experience is comparable to the pain of a mother giving birth to a much awaited baby of her own. Anyways, it is a good write, ,
A universal message to the smokers that they puff and make whorl as a style and at last they lost in the puff through the whorl they pass away thank you a heavy poem one must read thanks a lot such poems are immediate required we must try
' I puff away my life'........ If that realization comes, it is easier to come out of the quagmire and lead a meaningful life and not a death in lfe existence! A poignant write Jasmeen! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yes i know all about that