(This is my entry for picture prompt on the IBL at Write up Cafe.) This poem won the maximum points in the total tally!
A bud I am, not yet a flower,
Let me bloom in peace until,
Bitter nectar, no fragrance yet,
Yet a timeless beauty still,
Tender body, delicate petals,
Wither and die, if you will,
Do not my desires and my hopes,
Deserve to be fulfilled?
Hands that should hold a book,
Are burdened with work today,
Eyes that were meant to dream,
Stare vacantly at the day.
My smile worn out, my face sans charm,
My plight do they not relay?
Without love and nourishment,
I see my childhood rot and decay.
Before the first fine rays of the sun,
Kiss and envelope the earth,
I drag my feet to familiar grounds,
But unsure what it will unearth,
Wondering if my existence,
Is actually of any worth?
Wonder why in a world of abundance,
Of love undiluted, there still is dearth.
To be tied in knots with a beast,
Is that my desire at this tender age?
The notebook of my life is filled,
With hollow blanks as the page.
Will my story be unwritten,
And left alone on life’s vast stage?
My deepest feelings, and desires,
Can no one really assuage?
I wish someday my hands will hold,
A pilot’s wheel or a soldier’s gun,
I wish today you will let me live,
And let me colour my life crimson,
I wish someday my eyes might dream,
And conquer every inner demon,
I wish someday I can put this down,
And spread my wings under the sun.
