Tag: Prena Poetry
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I know alot now, I am older. And yet I quite easily miss the younger version of myself, the girl who dreaded upon sharp objects and assumed courage to be woman with a gun in her mind, but was atleast unaware, of what pain and tragedy really felt like. But then I wish I could…
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Concealed Courage
Maybe he was told that it was okay. For the world was so much bigger than the amount of toys that his six years old hand could hold. Mayhe, at 15, his father contemplated that his son wouldn’t come to waste his life like his brother. His mother must have held his hand on the…
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Oceans and Skies
Maybe, she is youngbut she is rather an antique vase;fragile and held by a gluebecause it once broke and couldn’t look beautiful. Maybe, she is volumes of masterpiecestapled togetherwith unread and unwanted thesis,waiting to be forgotten and burned for good. But don’t let them tell youthat she is just an unwary droplet. She is an…
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The beautiful broken people
I think there is a melody to every heart break that crumbles a human body every once in a while. Somewhere as someone watches the moon and sips coffee from a broken mug that has been glued together for the second time moon—someone in some place is falling apart, looking at the beauty of the…
Prena Poetry 