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k-balachandranPoems
Rain clouds, swirling emotions, crowd the horizon, mind is taken over by wistfulness, sitting on her throne of pain alone,the poet cradles her heart, to a trance she slips, wings to a world, everything is possible---- melting heart's alchemy, builds a metaphoric edifice she wills to live in it incognito for ever none will discover this secret unless rarely an intrepid reader without even knocking on the door comes in perhaps, if a sweet suspicion arises, when resonating with it's ambiguous core, and gets  a mute invitation, the poem now is a lit house, in the pitch darkness of life two inhabitants with different visions choose to live, this house of metamorphosis, with increasing rooms gets more visitors, who come and stay, at times they wish. times invariably change, visitors swell or become a trickle, the house well founded in the strength of a metaphor is alive, around it's fireplace generations would huddle, find solace, they hear the beats of thunderclaps and songs of pouring rain.
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
Poet's secret
Rain clouds, swirling emotions, crowd the horizon, mind is taken over by wistfulness, sitting on her throne of pain alone,the poet cradles her heart, to a trance she slips, wings to a world, everything is possible---- melting heart's alchemy, builds a metaphoric edifice she wills to live in it incognito for ever none will discover this secret unless rarely an intrepid reader without even knocking on the door comes in perhaps, if a sweet suspicion arises, when resonating with it's ambiguous core, and gets  a mute invitation, the poem now is a lit house, in the pitch darkness of life two inhabitants with different visions choose to live, this house of metamorphosis, with increasing rooms gets more visitors, who come and stay, at times they wish. times invariably change, visitors swell or become a trickle, the house well founded in the strength of a metaphor is alive, around it's fireplace generations would huddle, find solace, they hear the beats of thunderclaps and songs of pouring rain.
"Never write a poem on poetry; a meta poem is a bad idea" you certainly must have heard those words repeatedly.Still ..it happens
#emotions#wings#alchemy#poesy
k-balachandran
Written by
k-balachandran
Indian
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
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