i look restlessly in the old cupboard with broken lock
searched in the trunk within old junks
half used pencils look up to me and mock.....
the old alarm clock no more ticks,
though the time has flew
building memories bricks on bricks
finally my eyes spotted the scribbled notebook
the whites faded to yellow
i turn page by page my thought mellow
smile did i to know i cried on broken bats
and laughed my belly out with the fictitious cats and rats .
few pages i fail to read as the words are hazy and frail
may be written wen eyes were blur and heart beats trailed.
then there is blankness in between
and then a few with colors red and green
even if i dont read the letters convey they are happy and gee
I turn again to find the pages all in blue
not that the pen dripped ,
but it was my wound which was glued
the corner of my eye is wet
i realise its more yet.....
wow...just awesome.....aapne to chitra ko shabdo me ubhaar diya.... waah aapki kalabaaziyan.. :P
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteDid I read it on to being something I didn't want.
ReplyDeleteBroken down, pensive, nonchalant;
I am everything else and you know the reason.
Huh! Bad joke..... :)
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I quit poetry madam.....
I just realised good poetry is not about words only.
Its something similar to what's there above.....
Thoghts, feelings, depth well threaded to be a garland.
Truly you steal the show.
Thumbs up.
Thanku Fazle :) dats an exaggerated version of compliment
ReplyDeletethough :)