In this hot sultry afternoon,
With people shouting at the top of their voices,
As sweat trip down their dusky toned faces,
My poetry is lost.
Once in a while
I try to write,
But in between I just collapse,
The sounds rotate in my mind,
Merging my thoughts and words,
And nothing comes out.
Some say I need a break,
I say I need lots of them,
The heat is rising beyond its level,
And I find it hard to cope.
Now it has started raining,
I look through my office window
And just watch,
The piercing arrows,
How I wish I could feel the needles,
How I wish I could release my pains.
There are so many things I want to talk about,
So many a things to share,
But neither do I find the words
nor do I find the thoughts.
And I look blankly outside.
The world beyond the window
Seems so tempting,
It neither deals in prose nor in poetry,
I wish I could cross the border,
I am a cursed soul
in the custody of a worn out body.
No, I don’t wish for death,
I want to live
All over again,
I want to feel everything that I have not felt,
I want to feel the world beyond my closed windowpane.
As slowly I return to my old rugged seat,
Away from the world of imagery
In between mundane deeds,
I have lost my poetry.