POETICbug

Roasted Childhood

Riot of emotions inside a home,

The ladle shouts loud,

And briefcase slaps the floor,

Whom to blame? Who is not wrong?

The moments of love dead,

Crying in the grave alone.

A toddler in the cradle,

The older one behind the curtain,

Laden everyday with raped affection,

Bereaved of a lullaby, parental touch,

Negligence gives them its lap to snuggle.

To gulp the annoyance,

Unlock their horns, atone,

Difficult the reality,

If only the jacket of ego could shed off,

To patch up the family that is torn.

TRIVIA

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{ The most affected members of family feuds are the kids and their childhood. }

Day 18 - Letter R submission

&copy Copyright Salvwi Prasad[POETICBug]

Queued, numerous beautiful faces,
Wooing you with aces.
I stand hiding behind my flaws,
Waiting for a glance if I could draw.

My appearance messy, heart clean,
Too many to defeat in between.
If only you could feel my presence,
Longing you under the moon, crescent.

Your vastness and magnificence,
Makes me insignificant,
Expressing to you, my courage wanes,
Not to love, that pains.

A little dare, you could be mine,
To bathe in your affection and shine.
Offering my emotions pure,
Quietly yours.

TRIVIA
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{ This is a love confession of a girl who believes she aint beautiful like the rest of them around. }

Day 17- Letter Q submission forApril A to Z Challenge 2013

&copy Copyright Salvwi Prasad[POETICbug]

Pen

Pointed mighty sword,

Writer of shapeless thoughts,

On paper,

But imprints the soul,

Dot, blot, calligraphy drawn,

A romantic epistle flows,

Or a war memoir in bold,

A signature, so rare, it carves,

Harbinger of goodness or evil,

With words that fall,

Prize, possession or legacy,

Guardian of many untold heresies.

Day 16 - Letter P submission for April A to Z Challenge 2013

&copy Copyright Salvwi Prasad[POETICbug]

Old man on the street

One busy road crowded all day,
Rags fallen, riches riding quicker,
A leper hand finds it's way,
While two others bicker.

Sultry surrounding cruelly rules,
Roasting a skeleton self,
Fate acting on him like a ghoul,
Caring father of past, disowned by his own whelp.

Why has he stretched his hands?
Asking money or little care ?
Looks at me with a broken smile and,
Buried eyes filled with despair.

As the colour goes all green,
Air slaps me in its flight,
That old man's sight tearing me within,
As I head home, he befriends the streetlight.

TRIVIA
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{ The old beggar on the street left alone by his own children. }

Day 15 - Letter O submission for April A to Z Challenge 2013

Each day a kind deed.

Pages

Roasted Childhood

Quietly Yours

Pen

Old man on the street

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