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Tag Archives: poet

broken eggs chicken poultry image

Poultry

My, my! What a life! What a life! Bred to breathe A moment, It passes by In a shuteye, And then I realize I am picked up To be ground In a machine Yet again; Did I not just die? Why repeat the cycle again,

he is a poet poem by scottshak

He is a Poet

Not hard to make a poet cry, He is already about emotions. Tears race inside his soul To find the outlet of expression. He can already see With his keen eyes, The pointlessness of the thing you hold dear, How when you tighten up your

Defiance poetry wallpaper of a roaring lion

Defiant

You did not get me, You do not get me, That’s how it is. I am a riddle To your hunt, And I sit here with answers To questions I am yet to face, With a confidence you can’t efface. I will pay you, If

Watch Me Die Poem

Watch Me Die

Consumed, Confused, I lie awake, My life’s at stake, I am back to ground zero. They say there’s no hero; I tried to be one, Son of a gun! They are all blind! My eyes couldn’t find Hope to keep me up at night, Or

mirrors poem by scottshak

Mirrors

I feel nothing, nada, When I browse through all the faces in my time. Sunny ones, smiling kinds, contented minds, Adventures hide inside their green eyes. People are strangers without their thin masks; They wear them to pose a split second sign To create an idea

image for drowning stars

Drowning Stars

City lights, You have drowned all my stars! Can I hate you more for Painting over my canvas? The quiet time of the lovers, Who used to prod for answers in the vast Had a world to explore; You have smeared it with your din.

reminiscing book cover

Reminiscing Book Review

Reminiscing isn’t a day’s work. You get that when you see a cadence of poetry caught between its whopping 200 leaflets. They speak of love lost, sing songs of tragedy, of a broken heart that claims to have reconciled but clearly hasn’t. There are years

songs of a ruin book

Songs of a Ruin – My First Book

Songs of a Ruin stays immensely hallowed in my head. The reason being, every time I sat to jot a poem, it always reflected my purest form of emotion. I would be drenched completely in my thoughts, feeling every morsel of pain, love, despair and the