PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When the city became like a prison

I was dying to get out to breathe

I wanted to roam in deserts and mountains

I wanted to walk with a lamp from door to door

Searching for the �One� who was not to be found



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I wanted to reach the seventh sky without hand

I wanted to sail without water, travel without feet

I wanted to be the ocean, beholding the descending moon

I wanted with his sight to sleep

Until I looked to myself, and found myself no more



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I wanted to be the sky, beholding the warmth of the sun

I wanted to embrace his heat

Until I feel his tenderness, and feel cold no more



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I wanted to be the cloud,

raining with feeling on the dehydrated heart

I wanted to be the gardener planting flowers in the chest

I wanted to be the butterfly on a poet's pen,

I wanted to be the inspiration in the ink

Until I inhale the meaning, and be imprisoned in lines no more



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I wanted to listen to love music played,

I wanted to hear the unfinished poem

I wanted to be the present beholding the Past

I wanted to defend my birth cord from greed

I wanted to be the mother, her children she breast feed

I wanted to be the candle catching the fire for hope to keep

I wanted to be the Breeze whisper of love song



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I wanted to be the flower bending with the rain

I wanted to be the white pigeon to stop the pain

I wanted to walk with the brave, tired from the submissive

I wanted to blend with the source of happiness

To survive the sad reality and sustain the dreams  

I wanted to be a blue bird singing, not worrying who hears

But I sealed my lips while my heart weeps

because of the city's freaks

Guarded my words for the unfriendly ears�