My life, ever since then has been really dry.
Situation, where traits of boredom do lie,
To escape from dreadful anguish, as I try,
It is so bad, that I ‘am about to fry.
The bad time has refused to take off and fly.
It’s like a desert, where no one hears your cry.
Why is the dreadful moment happening? Why?
As I ‘am beginning to stare up so high,
Staring up with despair into the vast sky,
Wondering when all this will ever pass by.
Praying earnestly for this despair to die,
Hoping for this to go away, as I sigh.
The unsettling curse that makes my life wry,
Thought strikes, into helpful adventure, I vie.
Happiness and joy now I find I apply.
A beautiful write, makes me see two halves involved, the blue of the sky and the brown of the desert....and on the horizon the pain of not being heard- wishing for light and life, bad times eventually 'take off'....Cindy.
'The bad time has refused to take off and fly. It’s like a desert, where no one hears your cry. Why is the dreadful moment happening? Why? ... very poetic lines...soaked in deserted feelings...a good soul searching poem Obinna...i liked this piece immensely...thanks...10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bad / good times are like ‘push-pull’ system….come and go… Wonderful write… Ten++ Ms. Nivedita UK