Wicked

Is it true what they say?
Contemptuously turning away;
That there be
No rest for the wicked?

For if what they say
Be as true as night and day
Then I too shall be declared:
Wicked! !

For if I were a saint,
My soul content would remain
But my restless soul condemns me
Wicked! !

For I would as soon be dead
As caught mulling upon an idle ledge
How then do I defy
Wicked!

by wardha jawdat

Comments (7)

But the poem is not wicked! its eloquent......thought provoking....fine! ....10+
WOW... WARDHA... POWERFUL THINKING... WE CAN NEVER BE SAINTS...A LIL WICKEDNESS IS A PART OF THE FALLIBLE HUMAN NATURE...
It’s nice when a poet finds an interesting uncommon thought before they start to write. Clearly this has been done here.
Feels strange to live through a see through box- never mind. I tried to explain it as closely and as clearly as possible. I'd be uploading that instantaneous response on this poem; duly citing the basis of inspiration. thnx-warda P.S: Poems are our children never think they can be modest
Since you don't allow sending messages, I'll have to use this space to give an insight on my comment. I see poem as a living organism which breathes of the intensity of emotions that had brought it into existence. A person who is on relatively comparable latitude either very empathically inhales and breathes in tandem with the poet; while for others it acts as a Sirocco and blows them off to some new geography. While I fully imbibed the intrinsic allusion to liberation of soul from the onerous magma of body; that enmeshes it in the labyrinth of desires and dejections, however to me it was that hot oppressive wind which unmoored some deeply anchored acerbity
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