Early in the morning, yet outside dark,
At my desk, brooding on my life,
Coffee tasted too bitter but still hot,
I had my usual stuff for all my thoughts.
The love-consuming ambition still with me;
I knew not was it me or someone in his prime;
I, then, looked out to see what was on.
And I saw a little boy standing there joyful and idle enough
to remind me of my not-returning desperate life.
Early in the morning, now outside bright,
I drew curtains to escape the noise and light;
And I felt the canker inside with shrinking eyes.
The ghostly canker was purring and I
quaked while writhing for the pain in me—
demure but quite benign!
The room was sultry and I was smoldering inside.
Though the outside was obstreperous, I shut out—
all the noises and prisoned silence in my shrine—
my room, my dungeon, my palace, all in one
to create a poem of my feeling—
sprout from my own disturbed mind
Courtesy of Google pictures
Foroz, M. (2017). Inside Out: A Collection of English Poems. Olympia Publishers: London.