My Scattered Lines Poem by Aboda Awed

Tchaikovsky

Settling in my seat, listening to Tchaikovsky's Seasons symphony,
Knowing not where my pen is going; is it on the straight line or another zigzag will be drawn?
A vague horizon or a clear path to a desired paradise..

Tears

Since when tears are dried,
since when smiles covered our pale faces..
The wheel of fortune is moving in the opposite direction..
A beam of light is seen at the end of the tunnel.
Will it brighten the whole tunnel?
Or will the spot disappear and the light fades away?

Victims of their own choices

A squeezed heart is weeping of pains;
pains of confusion and fear
A bleeding heart, a crystal covered by blood of despair and neglect
Searching for a cure, searching for feeling ears and a listening heart
A sigh is stuck in the wailing veins..

Escaping from life

Sins cover the earth and blood is covering the truth
A lost soul is roaming around hell
Fire is burning in the middle of paradis, the unexsisting paradise.
How can it be extinguished? how can hell be paradise..