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Beheaded flower in the hands of an imaginary child
Plucked away from the umbilicus of life
Now the bond has broken,
And the dream has torn apart.

Since then, there were no beds of flower
Except clusters of pain and sufferings
You looked at the stars in cold and desperation
Forced to face the sun in shame and humiliation

A silent song echoed in the dry wind
Hands of an amateur gardener penetrated dry earth
Let the rain come and wash away
Wash away the pain and suffering of yesteryears

No matter whether you are a weed or a seed
Keep the fight on until the weather is fine
The deeper you root that tender you flower
You and I are the rings in a chain, the chains in the divine ritual of life

So keep the hopes of bearing flowers someday
When justice dies, blossom into a thousand flowers
And spread the fragrance of hope for grieving
There you change this place to a land of wonders.


Perfect poet award (Week 50)

The perfect poet award (Week 50)



Thanks a ton to the Poetry Palace for this award – Anthony.


Man in the mirror

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When expressions reflected in the mirror
Life refracted through my past
I danced with you like an innocent child
Sometimes I acted before you like a superstar
You have painted my moods
And endured my true colors
Whether it is hot or cold
Mirror does its job
Mirror is a true friend of man
And I am the man in the mirror

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