The sand blew and the clouds grew.
Was it raining or the sky was mourning.
His dad threw him out,
Lost and lonely he walked the silent path,
Silent yet melancholy, melancholy yet not pitiable.
Lad was sobbing, sobbing made him shudder.
The shuddering was the dance of life......
Known to the known, yet very unknown
Reached the marsh, marsh was dry.
Tears streamed down the eyes.
Dryness soaked in his tears.....
Marsh was again alive
Tears that were for dad, dad suffocated his childhood.
Darker than darkest, he saw faces.
Faces that were painted, painted in black, grey and blue
But white faces were very few.
People rushed with cold vibes in zigzag.
Avoiding a collision with him.
The pattern of avoidance was dance of life.....
Wolves howling, caricatures climbing,
The artist in boy learnt to make faces.
Faces black, grey and blue.
Those asking for white were very few....
Winter came early in life, life brought calm.
Calmness spread its sheet in the life.
Boy smoked, drank and was making merry...
But he craved for faces; faces not grey black and blue...
But for white those only were very few.
The desires and dreams still existed in dreams.
Huh.....The dance of life.
Always painting in his cottage, cottage locked.
Lock tight, keys thrown in the river,
Some river cried...streams of white water rushed downstream.
There were knocks, knocks to be avoided.
Some called for him, others respected his seclusion,
Others were furious and abused...
But what for the knocking was the dance of life??
Knock knock..
One was the coldest knock ever,
The artist raised his eyes,
He knew death had come, to ease him.
To release him.
Take him to where he truly belong...
He threw all his painted faces...
Water from the river spilled all over.
It was horrible....
The death clasped him....
This was the dance of life....
People still come to make faces...
Faces black grey and blue...
But the one with white are few.....
12 comments:
why dont u join a band.... u can make such a gud poetry.... bas ek zeetarist and drummer and a keyboard is req... aur tu to lagta bhi hai
ek
rockstar
bang bang bang!!!!!
:)
vry touchy!!!
hey ankur best comment ever ..i wish i could be a rock star ...but u know what i am better like this ...
deepna ...thanks for the extraordinary bit wise pointer comment...
int X= len(void)
x is the length of comment.
hey shivani thanks for dropping by...
hmmm so the miracle child walks lonely again..
well dont till when.. but as you told me its to clean up the final mess. so hope it really is the last time.
baaki to ankur made you a rockstar. mast hai. waise bhi tera attitude n abuse sense to hai hi rockstar ki.. so a little missing. lol
while going through your poem, first thing that came to my mind was 'is the poet enjoying this experience hes going through? ', dont get me wrong but dance is something which any form is supposed to be enjoyed.
a bit layoff but this thought of mine was spontaneous.
plus black+white= grey and white contains colour blue, so faces in white are not few...
its like 'the way you take things'
at the end 'amazing write!!'
ROCKON DUDE :)
hey anuj ...thanks for dropping by your comments are awaited..
yeah cleaning up the misery till it doesnt come again :P:P
hey priyanka...
yeah grey becasue truely white faces are very few....
even when a droplet of black comes on a white sheet it becomes tainted...here black is all mixed with white so its negligible
thanks for dropping by :)
well..as i told u i didn't expect this to come... yes rightly said that the white faces are hard to find these days...
but its actually ur perspective about people that makes u classify them as black, gray or white..
take time to choose.......
Well written and really awesome poem :)
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