Skip to main content

THE STORM


Right before my very eyes,
A storm gathers every day.
Hell breaks loose, vultures feast,
Little birds get trapped.
I do nothing but walk away.
Courage eludes me, fear numbs me.
I try to save my skin,
Yet the aftermath haunts me,
Nags me, reminds me of
The blatant display of cowardice.
Nests break, hopes shatter.
Before they pick themselves up,
A new storm gathers.

Labels:

Comments

Rià said…
I could picture it while i read it.
July 5, 2012 at 2:07 AM
Tereza said…
Wow, just wow!
July 6, 2012 at 3:57 AM
Saru Singhal said…
Lovely. Loved the way you weaved the poem around storm, though symbolic.:)
July 6, 2012 at 9:35 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ILLUSIONS OF REALITY...

The more you point out my mistakes, The more you are drawn towards me. The more you try to hurt me, The more you bleed in your heart. The more you run away from me, The more my memories haunt you. The more you want to forget me, The more you are reminded of my presence. The more you want to chase me away, The closer I come to you. The more you hate me, The more you end up loving me. The more you call me an “illusion” The more I dawn as the reality of your life….
104 comments
Read more

A C R O S T I C

A s I was walking , C hoosing the hues of life, R ainclouds made an appearance O n the sunny sky above. S cuttling through untrodden paths, T he narrow bylanes,not a soul around, I was indeed lost - Drops of rain C hased me - but Ahoy! a way was found. P.S. :My first attempt on acrostic poetry.Hope my readers will like it. To know more about acrostics,click the link given. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acrostic
70 comments
Read more

CONFESSION OF A WOMAN...

When I'm born,I'm jeered at.When I'm a child,I'm made to believe that my reason for existence is somebody else.While I'm growing up,I'm discouraged to question.My brain and heart are numbed.I cannot die too,since it will bring infamity to my family.People would say,"At this age,what could have forced her to terminate herself ? She failed to materialize her fantasy.Such bad morals." I fast for the well-being of my father and brothers.When I outgrow my frocks,I'm let off to another household.There, I work for others, without pay.I have children but they treat me like a door-mat.Here too,I fast for my husband's and childrens' long,peaceful life.When the man of the house,who happens to be my "husband" dies,I shed a part of my soul.I have no right to live then,I just breathe and sit in a corner.Rest of my life is spent in praying-for death.They say, "Woman needs a man.In childhood,its father.In youth,its husband and in old age,i...
77 comments
Read more