little poem

lately it's been pretty depressing and have simply been thinking a lot. I personally love reading poetry and since the age of eighteen have written quite a few. Sadly i have never had an audience, since it's difficult to trust anyone. So in case anyone likes that stuff and wants to read it, here you go. Thanks!

Mother Mother

The years have passed
under rain and sun,
with old and tattered rags
and stale dinner scraps,
yet I still wait at your door.

Upon your window sill
a sparrow solemnly speaks:
“Welcome to the Buddhist sanctuary
from the cyclical suffering.
These, my friend, are the twigs
of the nest
for the poor and the downtrodden.
Here your dreams are alive—
they are real.”

But my tongue rolls like
a broken locomotive
and my skin reminds you of
an obscene vagrant.
It hurts your eyes, you say.
I am an outcast into a leper colony,
but look at the scars,
I am your suicidal poet,
The civil rights activist,
I am your revolutionary warrior.

Mother, Mother,
I am the poor,
I am the downtrodden,
Why then
Wont you open the door?

Hey Marcos thank you for sharing that poem.I love the last line"Wont you open the door? "

you are my favorite poet of all times as of now..i too love the last line..if only i could head you recite this poem..it would be amazing to hear ur emotions while ur reciting this poem..please keep writing more !

Erase / Rewind