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.
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.........
5 comments:
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?".
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.
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.
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/
The details moved me into the poem. I really enjoyed it and found it moving.
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