The pot in my hand,
Cracked and broken,
Lost and forgotten.
Once filled with water,
Of love and hope,
I hoped that the stones of promise,
Will make the water rise up.
But alas! The stones were thrown,
To make the pot bleed,
And make plants of hate grow.
Then came two hands,
To mend and tend,
Instead threw the pot down,
For it to be lost forvever.
I looked everywhere,
For my broken pot;
To collect and keep it,
For it was a part of me.
My heart, cracked and broken;
Lost and forgotten.
Well, this is so beautiful....the metaphor of pot is cleverly used here...thanks for sharing☺☺☺☺
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful piece of poetry nicely penned from the heart. Thanks for sharing.