This first drizzle of winter
Drops of crystal descend
merge with the street
to become this stubborn slush
splattered
on the tattered phanek
of the widowed valley
This mist of winter
Blinded by whiteness
The white cold seep through
From the bed of tarmac
Into the vagabond’s soul
A clueless poet
Tainted with love for verse
Heartbreak became a poem of winter
Gnawing through bones
Each word hang heavy
Like the bulky winters’ torn fabrics
http://soibamharipriya.blogspot.com ©
I am not into poetry. To be honest, the only reason I read your blog on 'google reader' (do not know why it suggested me your name) is the pictures that you put in there, and more so the 'such good captions' you gave them.
ReplyDeleteBut now, after reading your stuff, I feel I might be into poetry afterall. Trying to figure out if its just a one time affair, or a long term relationship.
Its been a decade or so now.. As long as words doensn't deny me its beauty and sorrow ... I hope to continue
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