Migration
M i g r a t i o n
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I'm in a lovely mood now
Let my friends know that
I'd stop bothering them once again
with that trash called my poems!
That said, now I wield my pen
To scribble my words as I may
I know, my prose would make them happy
That’s left in their lives—so very prosaic!
Cries hoarse and doesn’t just stop
Is it her prose? Or just a poem of protest, so very loud?
Or yet another beat in the making of a discord ?
where are those charming stuff to write about?
Tears, pain, sigh and struggle
Everything has just faded out.
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By
A. N. Nanda
Muzaffarpur
24-6-2009
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Labels: Muse
posted by The Unadorned | 9:11 AM
2 Comments:
How true... The blue days leave you with nothing but a cloud of gloom. It is so overpowering, it practically invades and take control of your life. I am feeling exactly that now. Why does your poem hit me there all the time? Hmm... got some thinking to do now.
The flair of poetry in prose, the ease of expression of prose in poetry, the depth, the profundity--sometimes I think they come of their own like those tiny but beautiful flowers on a bed of grass. I think one needs to scribble or say punch the keyboard even when he/she has no idea where that would lead.
Thanx Melly.
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