Read Me

Poetry | 91 Chapters

Author: Ann Bee


Read Me is simply a lyric to your vagrant tune, words to your thoughts, a photograph of your imagination, a wishful shape of your memories. We read several books, some of them enter a deeper level within us at the risk of getting replaced by a different book with a better concept to grasp or relate. This book doesn’t fall in any of these categories. Why? It’s because the expressions in this book are a part of us, they reside within. We live w....


Patrons of the romantics,

apologies for the forthcoming disappointment

for this very poetry is about life as it is

bold, broken and bamboozled,

no much fictional connotation to behold.

Scrounge deep all you want

for mystery I prefer to possess.

The servings on your pale, white plate

is barely obvious to comprehend.

Let me and the book borrow your attention

for the number of pages that awaits just for you, only you.

It is a matter of depth and scattered verses

you need to hold, solve and sell.

You wouldn’t be the same towards the last page

so wouldn’t I, that I can tell.


Who are the people

who prattle to themselves in their solitary bit?

What would you name them?

Insane, demented, absurd?

If yes, I am the head of that abode.

I prepare a skit, take it random

where I am the narrator, I am the writer,

the doctor or the actor grabbing that gleamy stardom.

I don’t need any qualification or thriving years.

This world appreciates every kind of act

without a hint of fear.

Taking position of different characters,

I stand holding that glass close to mine.

Reciting the lines from every possible direction

or role I tend to assign.

I clink my invisible glass

with some imaginative champaign to hold.

“Cheers to my sanity!” I howl.

I receive no mockery in this locale,

there’s no one to jeer my morale,

there’s no downfall of the incoming suspense.

Its just me and my design

be it silly, proper or terrible enough

for me to resign.

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Poetry | 91 Chapters

Author: Ann Bee

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Read Me

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