Why does he write when none will read?
Why does he send his links to me?
What do I care if his emotions touch the sky
And bring the stars at his feet
I am not humored by his rant, nor
His ceaseless comparison to the birds that sing
His staying awake to see the sun go down
To hear the melodious song of early spring
And what should I do if I knew the precise date
When he broke his front tooth at tender age
When he took his first step before he crawled
To grab his clumsy bite from his maiden plate
I am pulling strands of hair from roots
And focusing on his scrambled text
He knows not of my this god-awful mood
When the poets of such cadre interest me naught
I am standing on my head, upside down
To get the rhythm from my feet
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Living in an Unsafe World - No, Don’t wish me ‘Happy New Year’ I am not in mood. There is nothing to celebrate. You tell me to move on, things are not going to change. How can I...