I’ve lived a mundane life in the years I had,
A million or more lives in the pages I read;
And now it’s time to regret,
I take a pen
And on a parchment I bled.
A millions miles separate our longing lips,
I send my love with this breeze so swift.
Hope your arms snuggle me before my messenger should reach.
When high dreams are broken and perfect schemes are foiled;
Realises one the cruelty of the world.
In such bleek darkness
When love drips from unexpected quarters;
Realises one the beauty of the world.
It was not the letters he sent her that made her afraid,
She read them and cherished;
It was her replies that she burnt:
An amusing letter left unopened.
Quite often to our children we teach:
It’s selfishness when a man takes the best piece of cake for himself
And ambition when the same man takes the best piece of the world out of their reach.
I keep track of the men who enter,
Both those who are welcome and those who are not;
All trod on me and forget:
I’m bear all their marks
I’m the doormat.
In fairy tales you believed
When your world was invaded by demons,
The only thing of the tales that were to be true;
You dreams are tinted a purple hue.
They’d put nets around the trees
In their frightful bid to cease
Her – the ugly caterpillar – to come
Into their lavish little haven;
Only to pamper the flower garden
For her the – graceful butterfly – to swarm.
I’d rather be the little black stream
Instead of the large blue lake;
There’s the ocean to caress the stream
But none to even ogle the lake.
All poems have been composed by A. D. Konwar.
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© A. D. Konwar | nailapost.wordpress.com | 2016