20/1/2010, Wednesday...
In a well ventilated room,
a soul hyperventilated..
Shadows of the past were dark..
No hue in some..
and some were bloodily stark..
A naked wire hung from a nail..
The nail was frail
and the wire had started to stale.
A mellow spider was there..
with some legs resting on a blank paper..
and some on a paper-man,
cut out with a rusted pair of scissors..
A few words were inked,
on this inanimate man form,
that read : Rider on the storm..
Time, after a beguiling pause,
started ticking, for an impending cause..
On that eight legged mortal..
the tickings started to chortle..
A few white-wash flakes,
came crashing to the floor
and disturbed that ever lasting silenced roar..
Some flakes crashed onto the spider
and slaked their thirst,
with the life of that storm rider..
with the life of that storm rider..
I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...
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4 comments:
I've read the poems on your page. Impressive. Deep. I'm violently curious as to what goes on in that head of yours.
thanks for reading.. this is the best part('read the poems') of your comment..
and as far as the adjectives are concerned, they voice a pretty subjective opinion.. but thanks for finding something worth reading over here..
although i write whatever goes inside this head of mine, but still i wish i knew what it exactly is..
:)
:)
You write well though... It's descriptive. You should write more.
thanks.. :)
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