I Turn to Verse

 

I turn to verse when anger hits my head.

I grab a pen, and words flow uncontrolled.

I should have drowned my pain in wine instead.

 

At dawn, I sit on the edge of my bed;

Hatred and wrath expound, increase tenfold.

I turn to verse when anger hits my head.

 

I hate my job. My brain has turned to lead.

I can't write well. I feed on words, age-old.

I should have drowned my pain in wine instead.

 

Stanzas overflow with poet's dreams and dread;

There's so much left to be read and foretold.

I turn to verse when anger hits my head.

 

I loathe my past, oftentimes I see red;

At twenty four, I stand on life's threshold.

I should have drowned my pain in wine instead.

 

Who will inspire me to work, earn my bread?

Who will help me be unafraid and bold?

I turn to verse when anger hits my head.

I should have drowned my pain in wine instead.

 

 

Bibek Adhikari 





Poetry by Bibek
Read 87 times
Written on 2018-09-02 at 15:46

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Deftly crafted, Bibek!
2018-09-05


Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I agree with Thomas about keeping it fluent without losing the anger An excellent villanelle!
Ashe
2018-09-04


Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
The villanelle manages to be both controlled and fluent. It has a sure hand, but the sure hand never becomes so heavy as to strangle the flow. Bravo!
2018-09-03