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Friday, March 28, 2025

 Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj



Taken for Granted


We are taken for granted,

People have expectations of us,

They expect us to do things

The way they want them to be.


No concern or care

For how we feel,

Or what we need,

Or what we want to do.


It’s all about their

Selfish ways,

All about them

And what makes them happy.


No care or understanding

You're all good

While you can do for them,

It's all about them.


The day you can't,

You hear the worst,

You're no longer good enough,

No longer needed.


Ill-spoken of,

Suddenly bad words surface,

You no longer have the place

You once thought you had in their life.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0103 Copyright 2025


Unseen Brilliance


I paint my dreams in colors bold,

I weave my words in threads of gold.

Yet those I love, those near, so dear,

Turn away, pretend not to hear.


Their cheers ring loud for distant names,

For strangers' art, for others' flames.

But when my light begins to gleam,

They close their eyes and kill the dream.


No nod, no praise, no word of pride,

Just silence cold and hollow-eyed.

Yet out beyond this bitter space,

New souls embrace my art’s embrace.


Strangers see what kin deny,

Lift my work and let it fly.

So I will craft, I will create,

Beyond their blindness, past their fate.


For art is not for those who choose

To see me fail, to watch me lose.

It finds its way to eyes that see,

And sings its song eternally.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 


Annmariewrites.com 


#0102 Copyright 2025

The Lonely Road to Triumph


They laughed when I stumbled, they whispered when I fell,

Their voices like echoes from the depths of my hell.

Mockery danced in the air like a cruel melody,

Their words like daggers, cutting deep into me.


They watched as I toiled, with hands bruised and torn,

Through nights full of hunger, through days harsh and worn.

They lied, they deceived, they darkened my name,

Made my burdens heavier, drowned me in shame.


Alone in the storm, I fought through the night,

Clinging to dreams with the last of my might.

Every tear that I shed, every scar that I bore,

Was carved into stone, the foundation I swore.


And then, like the dawn after years without light,

Success found my hands, my soul burning bright.

The ones who once mocked me now speak with a grin,

Forgetting their cruelty, they now call me "friend."


They reach for my table, they thirst for my wine,

As if they had carried this burden of mine.

They act like they knew me, like they helped me through,

But where were they when the cold winds blew?


Oh, envy now lingers in eyes once so cruel,

Their laughter has faded, their tongues play the fool.

But I do not falter, nor bow to their schemes,

For I earned this triumph, I conquered my dreams.


Let them murmur, let them pretend,

They were never with me, not now, not then.

For the road was lonely, the battle was mine,

And now I stand tall—let my victory shine.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0101 Copyright 2025


Love’s Echo in Time


In a heartbeat, swift yet deep,

Love is lost where shadows creep.

A lifetime’s warmth, now ghostly air,

Drifting where the heart won’t dare.


Brick by brick, we built so tall,

Yet even mountains learn to fall.

Waves erase what hands have traced,

Leaving echoes, love misplaced.


Time, a thief with silent tread,

Steals the words we left unsaid.

Yet in the hush of shattered days,

Hope still whispers through the haze.



From dust and ash, the soul takes flight,

Chasing dawn beyond the night.

For love may falter, fade, or stray,

But light will always find its way.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0100 Copyright 2025


Fleeting Moments


In a heartbeat, swift and slight,

What took a lifetime, lost from sight.

Brick by brick, love’s careful hand,

Swept away like grains of sand.


The hands that built, the mind that dreamed,

Now grasp at echoes, torn and streamed.

A fortress strong, yet time unkind,

Leaves empty halls and dust behind.


Storms arrive without a sound,

Toppling all so tightly bound.

Words unspoken, steps unseen,

Erase the years where love had been.


Yet even loss, though fierce and cold,

Makes space for light, for strength untold.

From ruins rise the hearts that dare,

To build again with love and care.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0099 Copyright 2025


Whispers of the Ink


The pen glides soft on empty page,

A whispering ghost from a golden age.

Dreams take flight on lines so thin,

A world is born from deep within.


The silent hum of midnight air,

Becomes a song both bold and rare.

Each word a step, each phrase a light,

Guiding lost souls through the night.


A poet's heart in shadows gleams,

Weaving truth and painted dreams.

For though the ink may fade in time,

Its echoes live in every rhyme.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0096 Copyright 2025


Emerging From the Shadows


For years, I walked in borrowed light,

A fading echo, dim, not bright.

Measured steps in footprints old,

A story lived, but never told.


Their voices shaped the path I knew,

Their dreams decided what I’d do.

Yet in the silence, soft but clear,

A whisper rose—my own was near.


Who am I, beyond their gaze?

A soul unbound by scripted plays.

A fire caged for far too long,

Yet still it burns, still it’s strong.


No more mirrors, no more chains,

No more drowning in their names.

I rise, I stand, I claim the sky

This is my life—I won’t live a lie.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0098 Copyright 2025


Whispers of a Fading Soul


The night sighs in hollow tones,

A lonely moon weeps silver stones.

Shadows stretch where light once lay,

Ghosts of dreams that slipped away.


The wind hums lost lullabies,

Soft echoes of forgotten cries.

Time drips slow from frozen clocks,

Carving grief into the rocks.


My heart, a grave of silent screams,

Buried beneath abandoned dreams.

No hand to hold, no voice to call,

Just echoes dancing down the hall.


Oh, love, once bright, now cold and bare,

A wilted rose in empty air.

If I should vanish, none would see

A whisper lost inside the sea



Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0097 Copyright 2025


The Joy of Words


On this bright and wondrous day,

Let poetry light the way.

Verses dance and rhythms flow,

Like a river's gentle glow.


Words take flight like birds so free,

Painting dreams for all to see.

Lines of laughter, love, and cheer,

Echo far and whisper near.


Through the starlit, golden dawn,

Poets weave, their hearts are drawn.

Every voice, both loud and small,

Has a place—there’s room for all.


So let’s rejoice, let’s write, let’s say,

Happy, happy Poetry Day!


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0094 Copyright 2025


Whispers of Time


Jaws drop low,

weighted by years,

each wrinkle a map

of battles fought in silence.


A tongue once sharp

now rests in quiet surrender,

stories pressing at the lips,

but never breaking through.


Eyes of wonder,

glazed with distant light,

still catch the morning

before the world awakes.


Hands that once built,

that carved, that held,

now tremble against

the hush of time.


A frail body moves,

slow but steady,

a ghost of its former self,

carrying echoes

of laughter, of loss,

of love unspoken

and moments never told.


And yet, in the hush,

in the unuttered words,

the soul still sings,

whispering to the wind,

waiting to be heard.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0093 Copyright 2025


Trapped in Yesterday


They walk the roads of yesteryears,

Replaying echoes no one hears.

Bound by ghosts of joy and pain,

Woven tight in memory’s chain.


The world moves on, the seasons shift,

Yet they refuse the present’s gift.

Eyes fixed on what has been,

Lost in chapters worn too thin.


Their voices tell the same old tale,

A past that’s bright, a present pale.

No room for change, no space to grow,

Just shadows cast by long-lost glow.


But life’s a river, ever wide,

Not meant to flow in just one tide.

The past is gone, the now is bright

Yet they still walk in yesterday’s night.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0092 Copyright 2025


Echoes of the Pen


Ink spills softly, tracing dreams unseen,

A poet’s whisper on pages pristine.

Words take flight like birds set free,

Dancing on winds of destiny.


Silent musings in midnight’s glow,

Tales of joy and tales of woe.

Each stanza hums, each verse resounds,

A voice unchained, where truth is found.


Through written echoes, hearts align,

Lines entwined like fate’s design.

For in these words, we rise, transcend,

A poet’s song—without an end.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0091 Copyright 2025


Worry Not, but Act


Worry not, though time runs thin,

The day of reckoning waits within

A day of sorrow, of words unsaid,

Of dreams abandoned, of love left dead.


If only the past could bend and break,

If only regret was ours to take,

One fleeting chance, one whispered plea,

To mend the wounds we chose not to see.


But anger blinds, and haste deceives,

We leave with bitterness, hearts that grieve.

Yet a single moment, soft and true,

Could change a fate we never knew.


Regret—its weight a heavy chain,

A silent echo carved in pain.

Should have, could have—haunting cries,

If only we had opened our eyes.


Yet the past is carved in stone,

A path once walked, forever known.

But the future? A page unturned,

A lesson lived, a truth still learned.


So change today, before too late,

Let love, not pride, decide your fate.

Speak with kindness, stand with grace,

Leave the world a gentler place.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0090 Copyright 2025


The Morning Drill


The rush, the hustle,

Time seems to run fast.

The clock missed some ticking

We must hurry.


Breakfast prepared,

Lunch is done,

Bags packed,

Now hurry to get dressed.


Drop kids off to school,

Then rush into work.

No time to play

Don’t be late.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0089 Copyright 2025


Millionaire in My Mind


I walk in silk, though it's just a thought,

A castle of dreams that money bought.

Gold-lined pockets in my fantasy,

Yet my hands feel only empty.


I sip champagne in the glow of light,

Yet my table holds water tonight.

A chauffeur waits by a car so sleek,

Yet I take the bus, tired and meek.


Pretending grand, I play the role,

But reality tugs, takes its toll.

Still, I dream, still, I strive,

One day, I’ll make this dream alive.


Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0088 Copyright 2025








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