UNTITLED
In the azure sky
the sun spreads its cascading gleam,
the mango-buds turn yellowish.
Sparrows twitter in my window sill.
I took out the pen after a long time
to scribble down my feelings
in this fine March morning.
No. I am not the same person.
Nor is the vicinity,
nor the words…
I’m beleaguered;
lost in the quagmire
of materialism.
My innocent past haunts me,
my creative days left me.
dipankar.
....it was born as a result of my venture to compose a new poem.In that morning i kept pondering an hour almost what to write about.I was under a compulsion of writing a 'poem'...and i ended up in these words.
ReplyDeleteWow Dipankar ! I simply liked it though m not an actual poem-follower ! ...it seems poetry naturally and easily gets transmitted from your immediate natural surroundings & then flow-travels through your heart to reach its final-real destination : its expression in a wonderfully beautiful form of " POEM " !! !!
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