Quadruples of Quatrains

Hallucination

And I thought love actually exists,
Untill I saw the paranoia
Cripping up to the face of trust
Breaching the sensual history ,then and there.

Perplexed

The young poet tried to renew
An old verse of simple feelings
And got caught amidst nothingness
That seemed too meaningful,by then.

Disabled

Paraplegic he became
When his beliefs and ideologies
Proved scathed and unworthy
In the world of so called normal beings.

Metaphor

To enlighten himself with that extra bit
He actually bridged the gap of
Simplicity and assumptions
To let his thoughts run freely,anywhere.

SoUmY@

some
random scribblings...Though Quatrains are actually four lined poems
with rhymes,I have not maintained that part.Please do consider my
ammateurish concept.

Comments

aareet said…

I like the experimentation!

January 26, 2008 1:47 PM

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@

Of Ecstasy...

Beyond the horizon lies the gray that rests between your feet, delicately. Waves ripple and glide past the footsteps, Silently washing off your prints afar, Uncomplaining in tender reverence. You raise your arms as if to embrace the sea. I see twilight, I feel air gently hushing by. The crimson Sun is at its last breath And caresses you with quiet blessings. As your innocence reflects upon the gracing Sun and the soothing sea I stand mute and mesmerized... ... Oblivious of the rest as the triad touches me And I cry, just. SoUmY@ [p.s. -> This post of mine is inspired by the picture atop. I thank Jennifer for letting me share this. And this piece goes to Angel . ]

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@

Soumya Scribbles...

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