My poetry is the blood
Sucking leech
Draining the life
Out of me
My poetry is the blue sky
Caged behind a limit
I could neither mend
Nor extend
Every time I think of
Kissing the sun
The moon swallows my feet,
Dragging me back
I throw my head
Upon her lap
While the stars all
Dance around
My poetry is my cage
My poetry is my rage.
-Nameera.
Nameera Ever After 
Also is there a way to talk to you? Cause I want to clear some things out. Thank you.
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Okay. Tell me everything here : namask916@gmail.com and I’ll respond if I’ve something to say.
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That’s such a lovely piece of work!
It’s great to see someone so passionate about their art!😃
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Thank you so much!!
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My pleasure!😊
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An interesting and powerful poem that explores the tense and fraught relationship that exists between the creator and their creations.
Again there’s an interesting parallel between our creative works, as I’ve also written a poem that uses a similar metaphor to the metaphor you use in the first stanza. Please let me quote from it:
No birth pangs
accompany
their creation;
fully formed
they spring forth
with such hale vigour
and confidence
that I become
but an adjunct,
a pale copy
of their existence,
as if they are
the begetter
and I am but a helpless infant
devoid of all knowledge,
sapped of all
force.
Born with
no blood
nor nature’s yolk,
they feast
on the nearest flesh,
consuming voraciously
that of which they came,
devouring
like hideous grubs
their creator
from inside.
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