Living With A Poem

Lost in nothingness, I look for unformed words.
Insides bursting, verses still not finding a way.
Victory, defeat, murder - everything seems uninspiring.
In the cauldron of wordlessness, the creator is killed.
Numbing nerves collapse, I give up.
Going for a walk might rescue, I assume.

Withering leaves, dry roads, dusty paths - no one cares.
In a flash, a young thing gets trampled.
Truck or a carrier - I know not what. They ask me,
"Have you noted its number ?"

A shrug answers it all - "I have been running away from numbers", I scream.

People disperse, crowds gossip, ambulance arrives at last.
"One down, millions to go", someone shouts.
Evening falls, birds go home and I choose to follow.
Maybe I need to check some numbers now.

Comments

Lucifer said…

This was bloody brilliant!!

June 9, 2015 at 9:51 AM

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….

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

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...

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