I wish my hand
Can touch the sky
To send in the moon
And bring out the sun
But why is it taking so long
Maybe because it's not
just my misery
But to feel for my loves
But why am I in haste
Having a lot to tell the sun
Is it of the sleeplessness
Or of the scary nightmares
Hopelessness is vain
When the body and the sense
Is not nailed
But if the sun is to live longer
Than my body
And the sense decide to cease
Will I be hung with my story
Untell
When I have no nightmare to share
My apatite with
and no square meal to share
my dream with
Must a still born dies
with untell destiny
Dear sun
Why are you still in
I know it's bad, but please help me
A nice poetic imagination, Shuaib. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks
Such a good write worthy of a perfect vote.....10+++++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very much okay. the poem depict more familiar symbols, which make the diction simple.