Saturday, October 23, 2010


Ah, you went, finally. You escaped!
From this island of noise, of void;
this rosy mire of suffocation;
this promise, of what has never been;
this expectation, of what will never be;
this conscious, of what we never wanted but what always is.

And I saw the aftermath:
Creatures here, their desperate clutchings of thin air.
Like the rhythmic thrashing of a drowning body.
Or vortices rushing to meet a you-sized vacuum
that you so unwillingly forsook, acceptingly but.

And I saw that aftermath:
People there, hear you the rapture and the clap?
Like the vigorous chirping of a new-born bird.
Or tangerine breezes with wisps of fresh flavour
that you so choicelessly embraced, knowingly but.

Yes, I know the aftermath...
As I search for you here and find my own image instead.
Feel you laugh there and mutter things that remain unsaid.

PS: Then again, you may not see this at all. Considering how internet savvy (or not) you are, I may have to show it you when such an occasion does arise.


Merin said...

Ok..reading this right after watching Dexter wasn't the best thing to do..

This one's deep.

Merin said...

Though its the oldest poetry related cliche that exists...deep.

Vinay Hegde said...

Oldest poetry related cliche?

Thanks for coming by. :)

Anonymous said...