The Reaper

The Reaper

 

I don’t interpret the language stars speak
Nor do I know the names
Of all the blooms I see
All I can do is dream and write
about you in my poetry
There was a day long ago
When we smiled easily
And loved like there was not a care in the world
We created a new shore for a
Universe of our own
But now Time, reddened with blood
Lies still, touching my feet
Now I fear nothing
Nor do I collect shells from the shore
Because now I sit down with a scythe in my hands
To harvest green regrets
I cherished a long long time
Fears once so inflated
Have lost all meanings
I wander if fears have any meaning at all

If you enjoyed The Reaper, read previous works from Maryam Viqar at The Ugly Writers:

the ugly writers

the ugly writers

the ugly writers

the ugly writers

And catch her on Instagram at Myrapoems

24 thoughts on “The Reaper

Leave a Reply

August 5, 2019

A seeker, dreamer, scribbler, reader, writing poetry as musings of a restless mind....and yes 'the sight of the stars makes me dream' too....

Latest

vincere Christos pherein
hour glass

vincere Christos pherein

December 2, 2025
Rain
u1111-rain

Rain

October 6, 2025
Kung Pwede Lang Sana
Asian female student studying alone

Kung Pwede Lang Sana

September 15, 2025
When Winter Ends
End of Winter

When Winter Ends

September 12, 2025