Lucifera Santez

Rookie - 33 Points (4th feb / Belize)

Strangers


As strangers we meet again,
So far apart,
Battling our devilish memories,
We try to forget the nightmares.
Stoned we are,
When our eyes meet,
Hurting inside,
Our hearts poisoned with deceit.
As strangers we stare,
Our eyes meeting,
The hate trying to escape,
From our cloaked souls,
So drenched in this fog of misery we are,
We have forgot to live,
We are dead inside,
But the stench no one notices.
Sometimes we pass too closely,
And we flinch from touch,
The same old disgust evident in our gazes,
Heart ache breeding distrust.
What are we?
Strangers?
Crippled angels?
Demons afraid of dark?
Or just mortals missing our spark?
Strangers we are,
On verge of departure,
Still our eyes meet a last time,
Tendrils of recognition unfurl,
But we turn around,
Ignore each other,
And go away as strangers………………………….

Submitted: Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Form:


Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Strangers by Lucifera Santez )

Enter the verification code :

  • Rookie Andrew Barber (12/20/2013 2:59:00 AM)

    A deep poem that paints nasty emotions we all sadly feel (at one time or another) but all hide from! The poem carries you on a journey, half of you wanting to read on, half of you wanting to stop. This is a message from the heart, a cry from the shadow, a need for some light. Well done! (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  3. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  4. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  5. A Homage To The Freedom Fighters Of India, Raja Basu
  6. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  7. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  8. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  9. If, Rudyard Kipling
  10. A Red, Red Rose, Robert Burns

Poem of the Day

poet Thomas Nashe

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king,
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Seamus Heaney

 
[Hata Bildir]