Callous, care less?

-
In full bloom was I cast away,

on a bed of dry rustling leaves I lay.

Voices I heard, were loud & clear,

though what they said I didn't hear.

I wanted to live & do my bit, but

suddenly the world felt queer.

Something had changed,

it didn't feel right,

everyone was too occupied...

I looked up from where I was,

I appreciated the poignant pause.

I closed my eyes & thought a while,

it was their loss not mine.

So I slipped into a deep slumber

hoping to wake up unencumbered...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sunset awaiting a new sunrise

-
Image
The heart bleeds as the sun rises, every day a new wedge, deeper drives; all around, there is mayhem, nothing surprises. As a father sings a lullaby to his little one, and a mother narrates a story of valour and pride: voices echo in the dark, deepening the existing divide.   Most are sleepwalking through life, zombies caught in a vortex that demeans humanity and thus thrives.  Constantly looking for the deviant and pliant mind, hungry waves catch on, spreading far and wide.  Strange are times, devolving at high tide, awash with a notion that hatred shall help derive, answers to everything that has forever eluded mankind. We are our own enemies, hurtling toward disaster with increasing speed, our nemesis clearly defined.   #SrKmusings #poetry #refuge #harmony
Read more

Redemption rare ?

-
Image
  Times have changed, indeed they have:  one often sees the  pot calling the kettle black ! Wonder when good  sense vanished & where?  Everything suddenly vaporised, in diaphanous thin air. The haze is heavy, blinding: overpowering one & all;  debate, dissent are rare.  In a crevice along the bend, erupts a tender tendril:  brave, feisty & bare ! Rearing it’s tiny head,  raring to go & ensnare: just awaiting the spunk to tell  the pot & the kettle,  how they are both dark & devious:  beyond redemption & repair. Times have changed,  indeed they have.  #Srkmusings
Read more

Dilemma divides

-
Image
Precarious & precious, so is life, always dangling on  a dangerous divide. Dancing shadows in the middle of the night, imbued were her dreams  in red & golden light. Power was an illusion, sometimes difficult to deride. Fantasy was her mainstay, she loved the risky tides. Shattered & broken  wanting to escape & hide, solitude & solemnity  her only respite. But often she ached to break the world's false pride. In the midst of the melee  called life, she managed to elude prevalent & impending strife. Caught between morning and night, silently waits twilight. Trapped in the shadows  of the moon is the sun's flight. Borrowed moments compellingly  repel yet invite. Poised, patient she bides  her time. #SrKmusings #moonrides #tides
Read more