"forlone" poems
Love was the fragrance of every flower
in this city, of celebrated gardens,
not long before,
Why i sit here, nursing my uneasiness
in this bus with out a destination board,
I don't really know,
all I hope is this:
my belief that it would take me to
it's last stop- love- would not fail,
Once there ,I know,
my redemption would be easier.
I don't see any one bound
to that destination,
not even one whose face i recognize,
night has no language, like a dumb man
i have to be contented with signs,
in this overly lit long, red bus, too sleek
for everyone here to feel happy about,
i feel the shock of change, from every side,
The city is busy shedding its old skins
and its soul, the villager and his words
that spoke of rain, crops of corn and harsh summer,
almost in a poetic vein, is alien now,
they aren't invited here anymore,
sulking, loitering around a bit, they have left, before sun down.
We are racing towards deadlines,
roads everywhere are blocked, broken, changed beyond
recognition, one's own street, needs introduction
work is in progress even at midnight,
new flyovers, elevated roads, sky scrappers
you easily lose count, and crawl through a maze,
all for a make over, to a global city of electronics,
from a sleepy town, embracing villages
to somewhere, the world feels flat, in an illusory grandeur.
Trees died horrible deaths,
a loveless and forlone look takes over, even on young faces
the sparrows, disappear, no one knows where
they have gone, bees and butterflies,
what would be their fate, studies are on.
A lady in the front seat
gets jittery, she is not sure where she goes,
the driver doesn't pay attention,
there is none to reassure,
we are on the move, fast too.
I was looking for Mahatma Gandhi Road, but the signs
are all gone, hope, those would be back pretty soon,
but would love come back?
OOO
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
An open view
from the tallest window
could'nt reveal my prince
Patiently, I would wait
stumbling upon heartreak
only to find closed doors
An open view
with extrordinary heights
Would never offer
a love TRULY right
only to find a bitter sensation
The tallest window
it's farthest views
leaves me forlone
with a love unused
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
She strikes into the hollow night;
Passing by the gloomy street lights
With a touch of eloquent cold breeze;
She tingles, shivers and ceases to speak
Her hair follows like a flying flag
Her rosy cheeks turn into jasmine
Her sesame eyes have become fastened
Her feet so cold they've become numb
Lonely and forlone she has no chum;
She gazes at the spots in the sky
Through her glasses she gazes-
Upon the mountain hill high
Pain
The chains she keeps on fighting;
To wash it off her brain
She rises up towards the hill,
Until she realizes the reflections that she built
Falling down back into madness;
With her blood dripping with sin,
And the rain mocking her mind from within
She drops down on her face;
With the glittering chandelier lights
Washing down her iconic skin,
Leaving every thought in her mind misplaced,
Until the moon rises,
With the stars interlaced.
Leaving her with nothing;
Other than a gun and a pillow
To get that smile back upon her face.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC