Skip to main content
GARDEN OF FEELINGS

I have a garden of roses.
flowers-- only friends for me.
different smells match the human emotions i suppose,
the world as it is today,mixed emotions portrayed in small canvas
there are the red roses
they remind me of the vivacity,the enthusiasm i used to have sumday
i know little about the outer world
the activities,the events.
my only source,my garden grows wid worldly experince.
i look at the pink ones-
sensuality,some kind of wisdom.
the black ones-
awares me of the dark shades of human nature.
there are my favorites,white roses.
peace,generosity and kindness all over it.
the fragrance,mixed emotions of human mind-
my garden use to convey them to me.
But until one morning..wat do i see!!!
the white flowers,all of them,have gone pale overnight.
they are no more.
the more i looked i for,disappointed i got.
i searched my garden madly
not a trace of white;nowhere to be seen.
i asked,"Hey God why did u do this to me,why my garden?"
someone whispered,"Boy,i asked the same question to men"
there was silence from both ends.

Comments

Anonymous said…
amazing.....
Anonymous said…
This poem is beautifully beautiful..the language is simple,but the poem has an inner deeper meaning.Spellbinding imagery and suggestiveness makes the poem magnificent as well as refreshing.However there was sumthing that I truly felt-The use of 'Hey' to adreess god especially in a poem such as this lessens the gravity of the poem.

Your #1 fan
Tania M

Popular posts from this blog

Untitled

You travel - Through unknown stations, passing empty paddy fields. over quiet rivers that rest beneath you. You bring a lot of earth along, And smell of mud, fish scales and trains.  You whisper and scream, Put your nails in me, occasionally call it love. Other nights, we make peace. Strangely at dawn, When the Sun rises and you see me sleeping,  I hear your whisper,  you travel ...   ... Deep inside me.

Untitled

Wish I could be a cloud one day I will love to be grey if its you To whom, through whom I traverse. Transparency is optimum; For I know you are unattainable like the sand escaping from the fist like the meaning assumed from the gist. look, oh yes, I can rhyme too. If you wish I can artify our world. Inspiration never needs a permit. You had asked, Why do I vomit blood. Interruptions in dreamy un-realism doesn't suit me. I know. So I write. So that I can breathe you in and breathe dreams out. Live long, you had wished. (Wished), did you? honestly? I will let it pass like just another Failed attempt to face reality Finds itself en-route to contamination. Oh! then what is pure? you may ask. Purity is not you, not me, but us. Purity is the way verses traverse. I will vomit to death one day. Do not pray for me. Pray for my poems who are quiet. Let them borrow my breaths. Let the poetry for us live. (And the footnotes conclude:) You - a miser in love Me - a happy lender. SoUmy@

Of Another Season...

On a day like today when an abrupt monsoon meets A delighted Sun, I think of you, like the dew drops on the petals - the freshness, eternal. On a day like today When my Neruda can sip coffee with your Joyce, you come to me as if memories were more real than now. They always were, are. On a day like today, When the translucent streets of my home gets wet and hears a tram go by, your thoughts occur. I feel you beyond those concretes and raindrops kamikaze. On a day like today, When my words seek no grammar and chases no metaphor, I think of poetry and I think of you. With or without, I wrote for. On a day like today, When I am diseased and all burnt, I want you to forget me as a season. We will meet again in summers, in our little ways, before Sunrise. SoUmY@