When I say things I shouldn't say to you,
Things I shouldn't say even to myself,
I find us drifting like logs in turbulent waters of despair,
For miles and miles the waves rise and fall,
I touch one shore and you another,
Such is the fate of drifting trees.
My shore is quiet, dark and lonely,
Yours is the only light in the distance…
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| The Song of the Sufi Masroof |
5 comments:
nice poem:)
Heya Ismita..I often stop by at your blog. The poems are a lovely read:)
and always strike a chord with me:)
Have a great Day!
AAKRITI
http://aakritimalik.blogspot.in/
@Bushra, thank you so much!
@Aakritti, I can't apologize enough for the delay in replying. Please know I really appreciate your reading my poems :) It's always a pleasure to interact with someone who enjoys poetry. Thank you so very much :)
Hi Ismita,
Love this one. The 'log' metaphor is marvelous. It imparts 'coldness' to your character's relationship. Then you rekindle the warmth beautifully by using the phrase 'drifting trees'.
Your poems remind me of Kolkata every time. Keep writing.
-Regards
Biswarup Mukherjee
http://cosmicrevelations.blogspot.com/
That is really a nice poem. Thank you for writing it.
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