Ahmad Usman writes under The pseudonym POETIQUE. He emerged 3rd in the WBPC of the week with his poem below
While I breathe,
Of stretched doubt did faiths melt,
While I breathe, I hope; at morn.
In moor of dark thoughts I dwelt
To loose the hatred I had worn.
Brewed trope… Lewed hope.
Oft gazing: my joy still sealed.
Glaring gleam in gleefully gliding gloat.
My soul, bruised; my heart, killed.
Love was broken and my heartbeat tossed.
Frightful hope… Plight-pool grope.
My bed too small to love myself,
My room still seemed to think-
of chasing my huger dreams-elf,
When hatred wore white smiles to its brink.
Untold grope, beheld rope…
Ruined the dreams of pains so old,
by coddling door of toddling sun.
But, while I breathe, I hope: behold-
Fumes of misery fornicate who mourns.
This’ a tightrope… Blind plights trope.
While no breathe,
There will be no hope