The Modern Heart
Her heart is her own
She no more wears it on her sleeves
No great expectations, no more fears
She adjusts even its beats
No fancy arrows might break its chains
No heat can melt its freeze
She conquers its districts and core.
She used to have wings
She used to catch the flying stars
Used to be light as air; sang with birds
Pure like the breeze at dawn. Though
They have cut her wings
They have eviscerated her heart
They have smirched her purity.
Throughout the ages
Her heart has been playedwith
In light of pain and grief it caused
She fell prey to matter-
On reality rock. she’d sculpted a heart
Out of rock; and placed it in
The left side of her.
Nowadays,
Her heart is her own
She puts her mind in her heart.
She becomes a closed book
With Great concrete expectations
Too much logic Weights her down
Down and let her stick to the ground.
Socalledpoetry of Biba
So-called Poetry of Biba 