As purposeless as my days are
Next only in hollowness
To some distant shrinking star
Whose solace is but loneliness
I boarded bus like everyday
Got greeted by a harrowed mob
A novice could have been at bay
But dodging was my daily job
Making enough room for feet
For humanhood I heaved my sighs
A day’s fortune seemed so complete
As I stumbled on ‘those eyes’.
With lofted arch in eyebrows both
That parted with a loving kiss
Had pride in them you love or loathe
But never something you could miss.
Those eyes as if were etched on stone
Slit at places God had deemed
Perfection would stay forlorn
If otherwise He intervened.
The black in them of sultry nights
That often kills the vital breath
Resplendent with blinding lights
That augurs well for solemn death.
Transfixed, transported to some place
By the invite in those eyes
An inkling of doubt did surface
As is case with well told lies.
What if it was all my mind
Playing little games to see
The beauty that my eyes could find
Was all the beauty left in me?
In this moment of my bliss
Gods need not have ceased to breathe
The bus in tow gave me a miss
I jumped off it all wise and blithe.
5 comments:
you at your usual brilliance. a very pleasant read.
# n.a - as luck would have it.....
An instant
"THANKSSS!!!" :)
The beauty that my eyes could find
Was all the beauty left in me?
That's true, you know. Evocatively put, and very true.
'purposeless days' giving rise to great poetries
I'm torn between my favorites -
Those eyes as if were etched on stone
Slit at places God had deemed
Perfection would stay forlorn
If otherwise He intervened.
OR
What if it was all my mind
Playing little games to see
The beauty that my eyes could find
Was all the beauty left in me?
You've been in a comment all this while on my blog and i never saw you. what a waste!
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