I am a 19 year old poet from Austria. I love cats, books, chocolate and wine. (And sheep and chickens)
THE FREEDOM OF MY MIND
I am a magical beingWith magical handsAnd this pen I am holdingHas the magic inside.And its ink Is the drinkThat I drinkWhen I hide,Because I'llDisappear Into cloudsOf my mind.And realitiesOf this world -They have diedAnd the fact We'll all dieTurns to Fears in disguise.And I write And I rhymeAnd let out All my crime.Because insideMy mindI will not be Confined.©poetry.by.dilay
I don't wanna make mistakesAnd so I make even more.©poetry.by.dilay
WHY ARE MY THOUGHTS PRECIOUS?
I know I am hurting you
By my lack of communication.
How I don’t share my thoughts -
My opinions are wasteful.
How I won't let you know
What I truly believe,
Because most of the time
I don’t know
What I feel.
Or how to describe it
In words that we know.
And how to just tell you
When I’m feeling low.
Because then we would have
To go deep into war -
And I do not think
That there’s much to explore.
And so therefore
I don’t think it’s worth -
Delving deep into all
I observe –
And so therefore
Even start -
To tell you what is wrong
With my heart.
But please know,
That whenever you ask
I am trying to answer -
But with so many thoughts
And so many words
And so many questions –
I will ask in my head what if this,
If I say this or that
Are you pissed?
And then I think
If I word it like this,
Maybe then he can’t say
And most of the time
I’m so close -
To just telling you thoughts
And I do this like 5 or 10 times,
In the end I just sigh and
And then you might think
I don’t care.
Which I do –
I just know
I can’t share.
There is an extraordinary PowerIn the relationshipBetween two friends.The power ofTrust.Of no judgement -Of honestyAnd no harm.The ability to talkOpenlyFreelyTo not feelLike you might not Believe me.There is a sparkle Everytime they laugh.And bend over'Cause their tummies hurt.And they laugh andSay I gotta pee.And they laugh With love -With honesty.And the momentsWhere you talk Real stuffLike sex and griefAnd how life's tough.There's a certainThing that's In the airWhen two friendsShare some time.There's a certain thingConnecting theirHearts,Their souls And minds.©poetry.by.dilay
I USED TO BE A CHILD
I used to go to school I used to even like it.I used to love to dig in books.I used to smile at life and - I used to wake up earlyAnd yell at mama, "Come!I do not wanna be late!"'Cause some teachers there are nuns.I used to do my homeworkEvery day after school.I used to write so beautifullyAnd used to have such fuel.I used to be love my dressesAnd knee-high socks as well.Though they were sometimes itchyI still felt beautiful.I used to love my Mary JanesAnd used to be so glad.For school, for teachers - Even Math!I used to love to dance.But now I'm 14 A grown girlAt least so mama says.I gotta be responsibleWell, that's what mama says.-While mama sleeps.I gotta wake up -My brotherAnd my sisI gotta get them to school.And make sure that they eat.I gotta goDown to workAnd I don't even like it.My back hurts -My legs hurt.And my boss,Yeah, he likes me.While mama's In the bathroom.And I'm out here to cookAnd raise my brother - sister tooAnd make sure that they're good.I send them off to bedWhen I think it is time.Which mostly's when I'm tiredAnd mostly they will whine.I'm no longer a siblingNo more a little kid.I even go to church with themAnd make sure that they sit.I even tell them"No! That's bad!"And threaten to then hit.Just like my mama used to do...When mama was still fit.But now she's ill That's why she sleepsAnd has to take some pills.And medicine Goes up her armAnd up go too the bills.I act like I'm their parentI gotta, 'cause I am.My siblings even startedTo answer with, "Yes, ma'am."I am only fourteen.I'd like to jump or swing.I'd like to go on a slideAnd climb up some big trees.But I have to,Go to work.And raise them little kids.I have to give them food -And have to deal with fits.©poetry.by.dilay
I don't know Why we do it - But it's something we do.When we fight,We don't show it -We're just in a bad mood.And I'd never say To you,What I think or I feel.And you'd never sayTo me,What you think is the deal.We just sit on the couchAnd we both look away.And if we do just say something - It is always with hate.And it's not that we yellOr we scream -Or just talk - We just act like it's nothingWhile inside we just rot.And we know that this ain'tThe way it'sSupposed to be.We should talk,Openly,And feel free to just be.But if I do just oneThing that you do not like.You are grumpy and moodyBut won't say it outright.And if you do just somethingThat I do not likeI'd not say it to your face - I'd rather just lie.And I guess we are scaredOf scaring the other.I guess we don't want Them to leave us alone.And so we would just never Tell what is the bother.And so we are passive - Aggressive sans soul.©poetry.by.dilay
A NORMAL DAY
I know it is my own faultThat I have anxiety today.I drank tea because I thought it wouldn't be As aggressive - As coffee...I know coffee makes meMore anxious.And I know black tea has Caffeine in it And so my anxiety goes:"Well, why drink it If you know?"My anxiety has got To a point Where I sit at homeOn the couch And I feel anxious.I sit at home on a Comfy couch And I feel anxious.And I started my day relaxedToday.I listened to smooth jazz.I read a bookI ate a banana for breakfastSo that I have energy to Do the laundry.I did some journaling And relaxingAnd yet - I now sit here and amAnxious.I have no reason to be.No person is watching meNo person can read my mind.No person is here to judge But the mere thought of itCauses itMakes it crawl upon meAnd I can feel it -Constantly - Minute after minute As it crawls deeper intoMy fleshAs it crawls deeper into My soulAnd makes me feel sickTo my stomach.It gives me this tingly feelingIn my whole body And as I am writing thisIt is travelling from my lower bodyTo my upper body.It feels like goosebumps And yet - There is nothing to be anxiousAbout.But there rarely is.And can you imagine My anxiety when thereReally is Something to be anxious About?It doubles.It cripples.It has won the warAnd I am a fallen soldier.And I know I should see a therapistI should talk to someone But do you have the money for A healthy mind?I was looking for any wayI can earn money.For ways I can get myselfOut into the world...And simply looking gave meAnxiety.I don't even do sportsBecause of my anxiety.I don't even go for walksIt is not that I am not sportyBecause I hate moving.No - It is because I feel people's Glares on my soul.It is because"You don't walk like a properWoman.""Your steps are too big - Stop taking such big steps.""You shouldn't walk with yourBack hunched like that."I walk like a farmer.Not like a proper woman.I bet when I run I look weirdSo I don't run.When I was still in schoolI would have weekly anxiety.Not 1 week without anxiety.And if it was a good weekOnly once But mostly 2-3 times I would Write down: Anxiety.And I know some peopleAround me must thinkThat I should stop whining.That there are people With cancer and God knows what else...WellI'm not whining.I'm trying to make you understand.(And here it goes Trying to find excuses for anythingI do)I shouldn't drink tea...©poetry.by.dilay
I wonder what you seeWhen you first meet me...Most likely an introverted Person that keeps to herself.Possibly my social anxiety.Some might say I'm awkward.Some might even go And say I'm arrogantThough I would not Know where that comes from...Might be my look? Some might thinkI'm stupid becauseI never share my thoughtsIn a conversationWhich could lead to theThought of me not Having any thoughts.Or maybe you think I'm intelligent Though I would notKnow where that comes from...Most likely you seeA person that does not shareA lot.A person that would ratherCrawl up and hide.A person that - Spends a lot of timeIn her mind.As a safe route - Escape route As the healthy way outOr rather in,Shall I say?But then againThe more time I spendInside my brainThe more I startTo be Insane."You wouldn't understand it"©poetry.by.dilay
I bottle feelings upBecause I was taughtThat a man does not showWhat he feels.And so I was bothered by small ThingsLike that you chose this restaurant Even though I totally didn't feelLike eating Asian.And you chose to take your carInstead of mine Even though I really felt like driving.But I said, "Nah, it's alright."And then one thingWhen you give me the chanceTo blow upAnd let out all of my emotions That I have been bottling upI let them out.I yellI screamI get real aggressive and I cannotStop it.And I know it is wrong butIt actually feels good to let out My emotions...And then I say the wrong thingsAnd then you storm awayAnd I am hurt By my own actions.But I can't show that.I'm a man.©poetry.by.dilay
Please have patience with meI try my best to let you to me,I try my best to let you into my soul.I try my best to let me love you.And yet I feel sometimes youHave no idea what I put into that.How hard it is to accept a hug and hug back.How hard it is to accept that I am being loved and adored by another person.A person other than my mother.I try real hard!So, please, have patience with me.Please know that I am tryingAnd eventually,I will let you kiss me...And eventuallyI will kiss back.©poetry.by.dilay
I did not start a warI started a conversation But you confused my question For a weaponThat triggered another battleAgainst your anger @jumiwrites
@writersnetwork @laughing_soul @craigswilson
The stars and the moon;they do not compete.Yes, both may appear at night,and coexist above, butthey understand diversityand value purpose;each is on a different mission.©RachealWyettey
Grief doesn't need screaming out loud. It creeps under the skin like a snail and makes its way out through mouth as anger and eyes as tears. Yesterday Maa told me that my poems were like dark nights and it was so easy get lost in them and not find a way out. Today's I renamed her trauma after me. Tomorrow Baba will be in a good mood and the entire house will chirp like the birth of a baby sparrow. But now it doesn't seem like this day will end anytime soon. I have a habit of sharing my sadness like it's the most natural thing to do,as natural as some young kids learning to make fun of that child who doesnt talk much. Who teaches them, i sometimes wonder, but then I remind myself of all the things I taught myself over the years, to stay away from anything with the ability to tear my skin off being one of them. But what do I know of grief when the only people I lost still live in the same street as me, afraid I avoid talking about them as if their names are trigger warnings and I want to save myself at every cost. But lately I have been taking their name. Again and again. And it will be an understatement if I say that it doesn't hurt. What word play would suffice to tell the world that it doesn't get better. Grief is a bird that learns to fly overtime and life becomes the sky, no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you still belong to the land,it just won't stop flying. And why should it when they say sky is inviting and limitless, a metaphor for freedom. And what a tragedy it is to have a life where the only free thing is my sadness,soaring high every single time. Some of the people I know ask me to take a leap of faith but who is going to catch me if I fall, I wonder. So I take toddler steps, because once I read that to cover a mile,one must start with putting one feet in front of other. I have been doing the same and look I have a journey to speak about. Just no listeners, no friends who would ask questions like where does it hurt the most so that I can point right towards my smile and say,"here, in this deal breaking dimple which convinces people that I am just enough happy that I don't need someone checking up on me" so here I am smiling like it is the only thing that matters about me because maybe it does. Maybe one day this sadness will have no nest to return to,maybe one day death shall take this sorrow away and if it doesn't,atleast I will know I was an entire universe to my grief when I couldn't even become the world for anyone.
#nature #life #inspiration #friendship #poetry #thoughts #diary
Conversations with the moon
She sings to me,In notes unheard by the Rest of the world. To them, she isSilent. But to me she sings,As a maiden sings to her lover.Her glow hides Wisdom behind it,Wisdom gained through eonsOf silent watching.She speaks to me,In a tongue unknown to theRest of the world. To them, she is Silent. But to me she speaks,As a mother speaks to her child,Forgiving his ignorant curiosity,Imparting a deep wisdom Gained through eons Of nurturing a soft world.She whispers to me,In tones unheard by theRest of the world. To them, she isSilent. But to me she whispers,As an old crone whispers toThe curious boy, sharing her wisdomGained at the expense of her Youth and vitality.Softly she guides him.It is not that SheDoes not speak. It is thatYou never listen, neverOpen your mind To conversations with the moon.©poetryfortheinsane..
I see you,gorgeous,your hand i grasp,When you offer it,like a kid doesto cotton candy.And your sweetness,Like magic it feels,But like magic,It is illusion,And like cotton candy,You melt away,Disappear,leaving me tasteless.©poeticallyincorrect
#inspiration #thoughts #poetry #life #diary
How do i forget?Those curfewed days,Beseiged queues of men on streets,In youth and oldage alike,Uncertain,whether they'll make it out alive.How do i forget?Those barbed wires,The confused and frightened stares of our kids,In towns and villages alike,Uncertain,Whether they'll make it out alive.How do i forget?©poeticallyincorrect
#nature #love #travel #life #inspiration #friendship #poetry #thoughts #diary
Who do you pray for?On your neat prayer mat,Worn out at the top,by your constant bows.Do you pray for the faceless?For the parted lovers,who never got to unite.For the mothers wishing,to hold their sons tight.Do you pray for the nameless?Who do you pray for?In the silence of the night,With blood red eyes,And constant tears.©poeticallyincorrect
#nature #love #travel #life #inspiration #friendship #poetry #diary #thoughts #love #life #inspiration #friendship #thoughts #diary #poetry
Hope is my tormentor, Yet my placebo. It puts me in shackles, Yet frees my soul. To keep holding on? Or to just let go? What will liberate me, I do not know.©poeticallyincorrect
Heart_Cravings #tod_wt#writerstolli @writersnetwork @writerstolli @mirakeeworld @mirakee
THIS TOO SHALL PASS
Yesterday was a dreamTomorrow holds the hopeToday is a realityLets not mourn for the pastLets not fret for the futureLets sync with the reality©_dachiboo_
They questioned my fertility They said I am not worthy of theeSome opined I was reluctant to endure the pains others reckoned I espoused the way that was easy someone hated me saying I am cursedWhile the soft-hearted ones commiserated meAll through my pain I smile back at those blindfolded peopleWho had the fortune to be blessed, with the easiest way possibleThose dumbheads who calibrate the bondsBy the length of umbilical cords and remain forever in oblivion of the affiliations that unite the hearts those piercing words were no less than labour painsI could have used the epidural of back-answers but I cherish my words enough, not to throw them in vainAll these sufferings my adorable, are merely an extra mileI would lovingly tread just to hold you in my arm and to see you smile ©aafiya_21Image credits : to the rightful owner#adoption #taboo #pod @writersnetwork @mirakee