I have been so sad that I feel
tonight, perhaps I too can write my saddest lines.
But alas! Poetry and rhythm are nowhere to be seen.
Images are prosaic, similes stale and opaque, eluding the night,
And all I could write is a few knotted jumbled stray thoughts!
What the heck; it doesn’t matter.
Atleast once, let me write not for an award or an appreciation.
So what if it falls short from being a poem?
If I fail to support it with a picture and embellish with wisdom?
It is my stray thoughts and it is mine, I shout!
And I still can lean on its shoulder and cry my heart out.
Last night
I lost my life.
Like pall bearers I carry the dead body
on my shoulder now.
But you don’t worry,
you wouldn’t see
those ugly bleeding wounds,
for I have been careful to cover and hide them neatly
under a milk white spotless vibrant sheet.
His face, her face, their faces
all same,
They have come to see the dead body
to put some flower on it, and
I desperately keep tucking the sheet,
hiding;
The mourners keep eyeing with curiosity.
What next?
Tomorrow, day after, another year
and what next?
Love, happiness, truth,
and then?
Duty, toil, leisure,
and afterwards?
Too many questions, too much displeasure,
deceits, lies, losses and what next?
I have played with your emotions,
and you have betrayed my trust.
Now what?
8 comments:
Great despair illustrated here. Hope it was catharsis and release.
Talk about confusion and anguish!
Are you on twitter? :)
Now what indeed! Woman picks herself up. dusts herself off and stands on her head so man can see her smile! You are a good poet Moonlight and Dreamz you draw sympathy and empathy with your words no need for pictures and embellishment your words are all it takes very descriptive:)
I lament your despair. And the poem is deep and rich with thought and emotion. I think I'm going to like your poetry, not for this piece alone, but the rich variety of poetic musing I think you are going to offer.
^ Thank you so much friends ... I am touched!
despite that I am a very strong woman with head, shoulder, feet firm and steady in respective places and nose a bit higher up in the air ( :P ) yet somehow my pen is always a bit more comfortable seeking and depicting angst n despair.
Kim, life is a cycle, a pattern of tremors, turbulence, thrill, joy and often we reach the zenith only to touch a nadir next moment and yes my poems gives me the required catharsis and release.
Hairyman - I stopped being on any social networking sites lately ... the day i would be on twitter you gonna be the first one to know. :)
Rose, you are very kind to me, dear.
emmettwheatfall, thanks a lot. I liked visiting your blog too ... wonderful poetic musings.
Good one... My wishes!
life is a cycle...and i think the heart of the poet must deal in the emotions that are dealt...sometimes they are happy other dark...i feel the pain maybe even betrayal...nicely done...
Ravikumar, Brian Miller - thank you so much.
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