Ahmad Usman writes under The pseudonym POETIQUE. He emerged 3rd in the WBPC of the week with his poem below 

 SUICIDE
While I breathe,

     I hope. 
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
©PoetiQue

Advertisements