Felt like posting some of my old poems here. No, I have not started writing poems since my childhood. Rather, thought of very lately. These poems, if you can call it so, are a sort of conversations held with myself. I have tried to expand the horizons of emotions, have tried to transgress them perhaps. Never ending process...
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Impatient he was in his
Blue trousers and white shirt
Leaning back on the grey wall
Humming an old song…
Impatient eyes gazing at the space behind the
iron bars
for the familiar face…
Would in vain shut slowly
Falling lashes… whispering lips
His fingers knotted unto hers
Sweating palms… ah!
Promises made and broken
Stampede of emotions
Only fittest (emotions) would survive for their
next rendezvous…
The finger tips holding the rose in red
Were losing the grip…and,
Thus ends the dream of a great escapade.
Drop the curtain please
-prajna
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