Stiletto

I

He waited for them,
But they never came .

In the ceremony of words,
the cards were never sent to
the alphabets.

And he sat , lonely ,
without those guests .
A blank page , a vacant gaze.
And moments conspired to
Poison him slowly.

On his last breath ,
He wrote , ...

We conclude ,
Pauses punctuated him to
Death.


II


He invited them ,
But they denied.

and he slit his own wrist.
Failed , deranged.
The so called alternatives
robbed the soul that remained.

They stabbed him ,
All over.
Blood diluted the pigments
Of creation.

Did someone ever say ,
Words are blunt ?

SoUmY@


P.S.-- Rajarshi's "Poetic Prose" has cast its influence here.

Comments

Shal said…
this was as powerful as poetic prose

i esp loved the first part the void was so evident

good one :)
Rukhiya said…
The comfort, the discomfort of silence,of speech,a boon ,a bane. Here is a write, that encompasses all in a capsule, if it does good to you, lets think, was it easy to digest?
Usha Pisharody said…
Your stiletto is sharp here...

Hurts deep, but then its understandable... !

Awesome. Your touch is inimitable!
Anonymous said…
"He waited for them,
But they never came ."

'Tell them I came..
That I kept my word'....



"On his last breath ,
He wrote , ...

We conclude ,
Pauses punctuated him to
Death."

Stunning.

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