Born with a curse divine, borne the wrath of poets
You take no pains to tell your tale.
Stripped off freshness you are as fresh as yesterday, every day.
Dew drops on your petals smudge your skin
A drop of tear in the cheeks of time sans the resplendence
Far cry from your cousins tended by a gardener
You assume all your glories at one shot, once and for all
Impeccable, a perfect stroke of the creator’s brush.
Thorns embellish that poet’s muse, but find no room in your heart
Your attempt at hurting is feeble, the sharp edges cannot hide their tenderness
They just need the touch of love, of the one who you adorn.
Damn the poet who mocked the absence of fragrance in your soul
If olfaction is an investment, hunt for Mary Jane !
Those who you blessed, by being their Paper Rose
Are deranged if they are still in pursuit of a rosy rose
Which decays, stenches and gets confined to pages of a book
Dried to the bone, stimulating poetic endeavours.
While for those with the intelligence to decipher your message
You endure, You haunt, You hum the timeless melody of love.
March 1, 2011 at 7:59 pm |
U just needed one more miniature..
Awesome..
Pls use simpler english next time
March 2, 2011 at 8:43 am |
Here comes the resurgent poet after a conspicuous dormancy. Are these marvels an outcome of some subliminal drive or the literary manifestation of feelings breached by distance? One word, ‘Charismatic’. Go ahead. Take on the doyens. All the best.
March 2, 2011 at 11:25 am |
This is the first time I am reading a poem of yours and I am amazed by those beautiful and expressive lines… Got to read it 2 mre times to infer ! then we can discuss
March 2, 2011 at 11:49 am |
A very good poem indeed. But couldn’t follow the lines “&If olfaction is an investment, hunt for Mary Jane !”
March 2, 2011 at 1:47 pm |
Damn the plebeian who ignored your modest being
If patience is an investment, you are the best return!
Beautiful poem!