I engraved awfully beneath my guardian Banyan tree,
To infuse its shadowy limbs with my dolour.
I scamper until each jittery gasps are nipped in the buds,
To tune out ruckus of booming malevolence.
I spill out my clamped laments to the blushing lake,
To beam in craving bustles of black-hearted city.
I cavort around like a smitten lunatic on mushy earth,
To breathe out my buried poison into sanative wind.
I croon with sugared chirps of yellow Canary,
To sleep under speckled Luna sans howling clamours.
I frolic around with chestnut palette of fiery tinges,
To cease the black and white sketches of my fickled days.
I lock my journal crowded with snaps from a chortling Paris trip,
To lay them to rest under candlelit roof.
I treasure my rusted iron box with clump of garish feathers,
To flow them out into my guieliless Utopia.
It is bitterly sweet to let loose altogether,
Yet I could behold twinkles at the end of airless tunnel;
The twinkles of letting go to be 'an uncaged spirit'.
So, when I finish letting go each pieces ;
I shall put on my ruffled sunflower dress,
Flump on white white, artic crags,
Gape at breaking dawn folded in its solitary grace,
Weave a new tale with promising cherry blossoms,
Wander on smoggy Mistletoe streets tinkling my mother's hushed lullaby,
"Little Angel,
Walk three more steps.
Say goodbye to crumbling ochre sun that left.
Look at the stars and shines that just swept."
- SAIMA
(Chammi)
Why these words?
Hours to days to years, sometimes our beliefs in ourselves shrivels up. We forget our purpose of existing and times like these, we have to go back, back to days when we learnt despite falling for again and again.
YOU ARE READING
Talks with Pen
PoesiaA collection of words into poems, shaped by pen and poured out of heart. "There were none by me, So I took the pen, Scribbled till it had end, The paper heard my laments, Which remained buried and hidden." - S...
