Monday, October 28, 2013

Now That You are Away...

OctPoWriMo Challenge 2013 day 28


As I walk through park street,
near the music shop
I see the same ice cream parlour,
but I don't see you standing,
may I ask you why?

As I sit down in the coffee shop,
to sip a cup of coffee
to soothe my strainous nerve,
I look for you,
but I don't find you,
may I ask you why?

When I am at the bar,
drinking that bitter scotch
with just two cubes of ice,
remember it's your favourite,
and our old brand too,
the chair next to me is empty,
may I ask you why?

Everything is perfect
everything is fine,
everything is just the same,
but its only you
and its only I......
may I ask you why?

Life is short
they say,
and you proved it by all way,
and I just wait for my turn,
in some curious funny way.

Memories remain
and they come back often,
I love them at times
and hate them now
as you hated them often...

I don't want memories,
neither good nor bad
I just want you here my dear friend,
as you always been
forever for me,
I want things to be just the same.........

Many a people joined hands to make the person "I am" but the first person who instigated me to write poetry and form a blog was my dear friend who passed away for a better abode in heaven. Now my husband provides me the inspiration to carry on writing.Even in the hardest of times writing is the best stress buster.  But without Abhinandan I wouldn't have started and my writings would have been mere scribbles in bits of paper lying here and there.

5 comments:

Anna K. Stewart said...

What a lovely tribute to your friend. I especially liked the poignancy and hints of anger I picked up from the repeated "may I ask you why?".

Wanda Bates said...

A beautiful tribute to your friend. I feel the same way about my father. Without him, I don't know if I would have ended up with my love for literature, especially the dark and Gothic.

Amiya chatterjee said...

Lovely ... Poet has to be emotional and Passionate because only the poets speak sincerely a language that comes from the heart , sometimes ecstatiic, sometimes , bitter sometimes lovingly.You are all these and more. Bow to you my beautiful poet.

Shah Wharton said...

My dad turned my on to poetry. I love him for that. You're right, it's cathartic. This is a wonderful tribute to your dear friend. I really felt their absence in each stanza.

http://shahscribbles.wordpress.com/

Ron Potter said...

The details moved me into the poem. I really enjoyed it and found it moving.