RED FLOWERS

It's Pakistani Independence day today a subject that I am going to blog about later on as to be honest there's so much I feel the need to say....so let me hold on to those thoughts for now and just give you a poem that I have written.

This is a bit of a deal for me as poetry was my creative outlet as a teenager but for some unknown reason I have had the longest ever writers block.

Around 10/11 years...I don't know why but the urge to write was temporarily diminished...however today I wrote something called RED FLOWERS.

Its written from the viewpoint of a young woman based around the north west frontier regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan.

I hope what it is about is clear from the poem and I will let you read it and make up your own minds...however be gentle kind readers as I have to admit I'm pretty rusty at this creative writing thing and probably need a little practise plus I wrote this in 30 mins xx.

Any way please enjoy

My fingers hurt from digging in this precious ground,

wind in my hair as I swung around and around and around.

Planting poppy seeds in meadows where I once played,

but memories like my laughter will slowly fade.

Gone are the valleys of my childhood, replaced by a sea of red,

exchanges I make, crying to the devil as he takes me to bed,

Flowers for money, happiness for pain, flowers for money, happiness for pain,

my broken dreams his unworthy gain.

My heart hurts from digging in this precious ground,

cutting the roots to the land I was once bound.

Knowing the price I pay to feed my child's hungry cries

my child lives yet my country dies,

With greedy eyes they abduct my happiness,

thinking the flowers from my soul will dilute their loneliness.

Little do they know they inject my demons , darkest secrets, my greatest pain,

I wonder with amusement  is it their gain my loss or their loss my gain.

My soul hurts from digging in this precious ground,

where dreams are made and loves are found,

I weep tears as the redness of my future engulfs me,

knowing this red gold on my countries soil will now never let us be free

oh how my soul hurts from digging in this precious ground