Sunday, December 7, 2008


(This one is slightly abstract, and that is probably why I am particularly fond of it. there is some pleasure in knowing that not evryone might understand what you are saying, you know... :D ;) )

Words pop like mushrooms in my mind, waiting to materialize in ink-
brave bridegrooms awaiting their marriage with my thoughts.
I write and write, and they come in greater numbers,
maybe it’s my war with the words,
Yet I feel only a little compassion for them, no hatred!
After all, they are my sole companions in love,
and grief.
Guileless souls that know not their own purpose for me,
Know not that love blossomed in my heart but once
And that it was stillborn!
I pity them for they are unaware of your greatness
Of how I thought you gave meaning to this futile world.
Or maybe, they know, and only revolt out of their own sorrow
"And maybe when they blunder into my poems, they seek but oblivion!!!"

P.S:- For those of you who realised, the last line IS by Sylvia Plath- rather a modification of what she wrote. The original reads- "And when they blunder into bed, they seek but oblivion", talking about two lovers. However, when I first read the line, I could only think of words blundering into poetry, so I used it here; and to pay due reverence to the original, put that line in quotes.


  1. If I try to appreciate it in words, the effort'd be futile!

  2. And it seems you've got the victory... a beautiful one at that!


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