Poetry

My first lousy poem.

My leaves withering,
rot away smiling,
Sometimes in vain,
Sometimes in efforts,
to paint your  life
with the colors I bear,
in red, saffron and yellow,
with cells cut off my veins!

You come to me,
not, but often
when the numbers allowed,
to sprinkle a shallow lifeline
in just the right measure
over my browning leaves,
to keep from souring!

The weeds,
that erupt off my hungry roots,
They steal-
Everything that was yours,
Everything that was mine,
Even the only remains,
of an ancient manure I forced off you once,
with a shameless display
of my youthful unrest.

When you’re gone again,
Across a narrow aisle,
I live in a shrewd silence,
Both dead and alive,
Both patient and needy,
I stoop, as if I’m falling,
Towards the earthly being,
Till again, one morning,
your familiar shadow falls over my skin

I wriggle alive as you run your fingers,
along my tender leaves, enjoying its sweetness,
And its subtle tenderness.
Your light kisses on the flowers I bear,
and the shivers my fragrance passes down your spine,
tells me volumes,
Of all I ever wanted
Which is only a little of you.

🙂

Published by Anju Dinesh

A writer is how I would love to have myself defined as. Who makes a lot of typos though. Thank God for all these apps that has come to my rescue. Probably not a very good one or successful one at that yet. But someone who did make an effort. Although I finish most of my articles in a haste every single time. And constantly worries if the piece is worth it or not.. Hasn't grown out of the cocoon yet. Hopes to one day write something for myself and not worry of being judged. Because invariably I write about things that makes it easy for the readers to judge to me. Yes I am hopelessly prejudiced about my writing and choice of topics. Goes low on self esteem more than often although I vaguely know that there is something about my writing that can probably strike a chord someday only if I tried a lot harder. Never works too hard. Never works too less. That Never been part of my system. Which means I always play the safe game.I hope to someday break out to that realm of fictitious world where my imagination will stay raw and free, my flow of words be effortless and there would be nothing around me that can stop me or bind me there. Oh Yes! I want to get there.

8 thoughts on “My first lousy poem.”

  1. Dinil Dev says:

    yaar kya kamal ki cheez hein…….tumhe koi award milna hi chahiye………

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