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divya-ramamoorthyPoems
Powder of ashes like snowfall in winter The air and army withered in a splinter Smoky-grey flaky leaves dead and forgotten Each cobblestone tinted and tainted Things of dishearten I stand in the middle of a big large road With ashen embers resting on my lashes My coat and tote limp from the bashes People lay, some far away and some grey, The death spell cast on all the bay I feel a tug in my heart, Shocked at the sight Cursed fates for a deadly plight I stand alone, guilty for having survived No goodbyes or funerals to leave me teary-eyed The carpet of carcasses in front of me lay Left me with loud realization of a lonesome foray I wished I were blamed for their unjustified departure Or for my survival inexplicable in any form of literature The sky now looks a faded rotten orange With the embers settled like a thick mat on the ground Suddenly the sound of tip tap made me jump From my lost thoughts. My coat and tote comes back to life I feel a tug and around my calf a hug The most innocent eyes looked up at me And said, “Mommy, I want to go home please…”
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Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
Phoenix from the Ashes
Powder of ashes like snowfall in winter The air and army withered in a splinter Smoky-grey flaky leaves dead and forgotten Each cobblestone tinted and tainted Things of dishearten I stand in the middle of a big large road With ashen embers resting on my lashes My coat and tote limp from the bashes People lay, some far away and some grey, The death spell cast on all the bay I feel a tug in my heart, Shocked at the sight Cursed fates for a deadly plight I stand alone, guilty for having survived No goodbyes or funerals to leave me teary-eyed The carpet of carcasses in front of me lay Left me with loud realization of a lonesome foray I wished I were blamed for their unjustified departure Or for my survival inexplicable in any form of literature The sky now looks a faded rotten orange With the embers settled like a thick mat on the ground Suddenly the sound of tip tap made me jump From my lost thoughts. My coat and tote comes back to life I feel a tug and around my calf a hug The most innocent eyes looked up at me And said, “Mommy, I want to go home please…”
Written by
divya-ramamoorthy
Indian
Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
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