Motley Poetry

Transcendence

Leanne O Connor Desmond

Credit: pexels

Autumn falls in folds around my feet
Bodies beat back the sweet sounds of
Degradation, an alien Nation rises from the
Earth built on the toil of our ancestors.
Whispers carried through the fog-drum-beats
Long lost, we dance to the rhythm of our
Mothers’ syllables. The lonely lullaby of
The night, tattooed scripture in her lungs
Screaming for recognition, the billows of
Breath, it is Winter now. The rebellion
Sleeps, hibernating in the earth filled by
Deserted barracks, the ghosts of the past
Write letters to our past selves in the sky
But we are too bust with the rush of Life.

Untitled

Credit: PxHere

Sehar Siddiqi

You’re marking it hard on me, to breathe,

In the same direction,

It’s a misconception till you’re in it on your own

I find faces with your look

But they don’t see what I see,

I made you up,

But you’re still real, when I opened up

I miss the simple concept of “I love you”

So after all this,

“I love you”