Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Untitled

 Black out - 
And  he became all aware of it. 
In delirium,binging on thoughts 
Something pinned him down
and put around  
           A sense of blah...


He doesn't  lament 
As he had himself,
           with a deft stroke of words, 
 Slaughtered a dream 
which was killing from inside.


yet can't  deny - 
That he feels himself to be rooted out
From his depth of piousness and his dream sublime. 

Now, fake promises wait for him at the gate-
and  tease him out of his fate...
     They follow even to the kitchen. They shout.
  They sit on the shelf - 
When he cooks , he reads,or he groans.


Nowadays, he skimps- 
Sometimes, moseying back to the park 
Just at one corner he sits and watch- 
Children Playing and elders talk.
( But ponders over things he loved and lost so far...)


He knows it well,
It is a crick in life.
Maybe, a tenacle of some insanity divine.
Maybe, an ebb - a temporarily defaced life!
O these poor translations of what he feels!!


He had read the signpost a long time ago,
Directions vague and ground so low...
But he had not imagined that he would quit 
And go divorced even from himself !

4 comments:

Rajinder Singh said...

did you write the last stanza. ...or was it me ?
Never could imagine our chit of a deepi to be so perceptive......
What we never have remains,
ITS the things we have that go....

Navdeep Sihra said...

That's really a very nice compliment for me! :D

"what we never have,remains;
Its the things we have that go.."

they are stupendous!

Aman said...

just tell me,i want to know,what kind of poem is that? I am asking u in a positive way...

Aman said...

just tell me,i want to know,what kind of poem is that? I am asking u in a positive way...