On one such occasion
When words left me while I was sleeping
I knew they will be there, somewhere
Hiding behind the walls of worn out verses,
Fabricated lies,
Stories of us and them and
Truths of me, curtained.
I have books by my name
That has grown over me long before.
What is left is ashes of success
Which I had smoked to futility.
Burdened is a poetry
That expects jewels in return
and crippled is his pen who builds a stage
that is consciously poetic
To us (or them?).
I have seen colors fade-
Sky to be green,
Leaves came gray
Love to be black
and words in white.
So I wait as time ticks by
and with a curious alertness I try
To decipher the tune of silence
To listen to the words that are lost.
A victim I am and a spectator you are
Of the moment that recycles poesy back
To the dot, when diamonds were uncut
and roses were without petals.
Don't you count
Who got sold and for how much.
SoUmY@
When words left me while I was sleeping
I knew they will be there, somewhere
Hiding behind the walls of worn out verses,
Fabricated lies,
Stories of us and them and
Truths of me, curtained.
I have books by my name
That has grown over me long before.
What is left is ashes of success
Which I had smoked to futility.
Burdened is a poetry
That expects jewels in return
and crippled is his pen who builds a stage
that is consciously poetic
To us (or them?).
I have seen colors fade-
Sky to be green,
Leaves came gray
Love to be black
and words in white.
So I wait as time ticks by
and with a curious alertness I try
To decipher the tune of silence
To listen to the words that are lost.
A victim I am and a spectator you are
Of the moment that recycles poesy back
To the dot, when diamonds were uncut
and roses were without petals.
Don't you count
Who got sold and for how much.
SoUmY@
Comments
Sigh!
True to wat one can expect from your blog.
A dig into the deepest recesses of the soul.
Good one
A victim I am and a spectator you are
Of the moment that recycles poesy back
To the dot, when diamonds were uncut
and roses were without petals.
I would like to echo shalini..These words can be etched, carved, polished and sculpted to perfection by you and you only!
Master's work!
Loved this Soumya!
www.chronicwriter.com
Thank you for your presence and comment. means so much
Bharath,
Thank you. Your comments are always so encouraging. One of the very few whom I admire. Humbled :)
Chronic writer,
You have a beautiful beautiful blog. Loved reading through yours.
A victim I am and a spectator you are
Of the moment that recycles poesy back
To the dot, when diamonds were uncut
and roses were without petals.
Divine!