Sunday, March 14, 2010


Another poem.... Seems to be my non-sonnet week!

When I was about 4 years old,
and the world stretched in front of my curious eye,
Innocent, amazing and simple- reassuring as the pale blue sky.
I stood at my balcony,
still struggling my little hand the edges to reach
and watching day in and day out
The march of the red ants, their silent screech,
to a little anthill they had carved in the wall,
A refuge for winter, and the two week fall.
They walked all day collecting morsels of dead insects
and anything they could find-
collecting and cherishing as connoisseurs do wine;
years of patience and solid determination,
desire, motivation, focused hard work, deliberation
modeling all those values self-help books instill, and innately
sure formulae for success, and fame, stately
One day, as they marched along towards their "success",
I pulled them all out with a thin brown stick
and dissolved their long stored food into a little yellow mug,
Then poured it down the drain-
A four year boy rendering years of work futile -
years sewn from millions of impatient minutes
with the thread of hope and perseverance, undying enthusiasm-
all in vain now!
And years later, as I see you today,
I feel like the ants once did
Unable to get my shattered dreams rid.
Unable to remain. Frigid.


  1. i think u should have one more tab in your rating.. call it Breathtaking.

  2. @Priya:
    Thank you :) (and one neat bow to you- the way the British classics heroes would do :D)


Comments are not moderated. However, spam (including irrelevant links to legal websites) will be deleted promptly.
Anonymous commenting is allowed, but it would be nice if you used SOME name just for ease of responding. Names don't link to your Google profile, so you won't be identifiable. Of course, it would be great if you used your true identity.
Also, as far as possible, please try to be respectful and criticize the idea, not the person (including other readers!)