Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
1 *In the masquerade of a poet he acquires secret wings, becomes equal parts real and unreal, treading the twilight zone. He still is an apprentice with the conjurer, incomparable wizard who never stops amazing being the anarch of slight of hand, the illusionist grand, we in the flow who swim or drown in the river, known as life that none ever defined the way it really is. 2 Inside his cubicle transformed to a scribe by a curse when he coveted it, was a boon he is real, all  his magical powers robbed by the day light, realities of life he is grappling with news that make  his heart grow weak. He is now a sobbing poet within, firmly  handcuffed to a pact strict, only to write reports, that's his might anything of beauty he couldn't  escape, its all pain in forms unimaginable most of it man made, even famine. A life swinging between a hope to come in terms with the uncertainties of the ebb and flow that breaks his heart bit by bit, and facing realities stark that drives a knife has become the rut, he wouldn't escape. Dawn peeps through the window blind he has lost meaning for day and night  long time back when this double life, has trapped him in this pen*
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
A double life
1 *In the masquerade of a poet he acquires secret wings, becomes equal parts real and unreal, treading the twilight zone. He still is an apprentice with the conjurer, incomparable wizard who never stops amazing being the anarch of slight of hand, the illusionist grand, we in the flow who swim or drown in the river, known as life that none ever defined the way it really is. 2 Inside his cubicle transformed to a scribe by a curse when he coveted it, was a boon he is real, all  his magical powers robbed by the day light, realities of life he is grappling with news that make  his heart grow weak. He is now a sobbing poet within, firmly  handcuffed to a pact strict, only to write reports, that's his might anything of beauty he couldn't  escape, its all pain in forms unimaginable most of it man made, even famine. A life swinging between a hope to come in terms with the uncertainties of the ebb and flow that breaks his heart bit by bit, and facing realities stark that drives a knife has become the rut, he wouldn't escape. Dawn peeps through the window blind he has lost meaning for day and night  long time back when this double life, has trapped him in this pen*
k-balachandran
Written by
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem