Skip to main content

Untitled - a poem



Clinging to strange lands set
my native fears free
burying the known I’ve let
the unknowns ravage me

The only truth I’ve hit
Were souls others had tried
Someone’s pains slit
Inter-twined with mine

There’s nothing to despair
My contemplation drafts –
There’s nothing to repair
It’s broken from the start

I’m tired of the swinging
And death-ness and the stings
There’s no meaning in -no-thing-
Until your loveliness sings

- Proma

Comments

Anonymous said…
The brevity of your text is a facade for strong emotional ties with your homeland. Perhaps the pain and despondence are linked with a long absence from the bustling, happening streets of your past. Time is a line for some...a circle for others...where the past becomes the future and the present is what defines time itself.
Proma said…
thanks anon - i do tend to write condense poetry - brevity is the right word
Anonymous said…
I was like "Who's anon?" for a second there :)

Do you consciously stay away from flamboyant words and passages? Most Indian writers I follow have a complex writing style both from a vocabulary perspective and from a content perspective. While the content in your work is there...just hidden away, the vocabulary is simple. I understand you are a mother as well and as someone who has spent a lot of time with children, I speak from experience that it does influence your language and your behavior.

Anyway - great Blog. Perhaps I'll get one of my own started and invite you in for a cuppa tea ;)

Cheers!
Proma said…
cool , I love tea !
Vivek Sharma said…
Interesting poem: packed with powerful emotion, and yet with cliched expressions (perhaps when opening stanza is so promising, the expectations are higher).

the poem is quite precise though, and maybe would flow better in free verse.

hope to see more verses from you.
Proma said…
Vivek : Thanks, you'd see a lot more verse soon.
GS said…
http://gs-synchronicity.blogspot.com/

This is "Anon" - Got my blog up. It is very different from what you write...but keep writing - Short poems are da bomb! :)

Popular posts from this blog

Faraway

Like a rose without water I will age deep vermillion and scentless. Your love I will keep like white envelopes from the past unopened under my sandal-scented bed. It is not memories that the mention of your name reminds. But a whole universe that I sometimes see when I sit and watch snow melt outside my window. Two drops of jasmine oil and two words later I remind myself this is only a poem and you distant, like a faraway place I want to visit. And say goodbye once again.

The Compromise (Part 1)

-June 21st, 2007 -2:00pm -Somewhere between Atlanta and Savannah, GA Eric Cohen stopped the car and let his head out through the window. Not a single car could be seen within a mile’s radius. The Sun’s brutal rays fell sharply over his balding head. He was blinded for the split second before he puked, for the third time. Puking felt good momentarily. But then Eric was too high to enjoy the release fully. His head was like a dead washing machine not even trying to start itself. He sat back straight on his seat wiping his mouth with Kleenex. As he put his hands on the wheel again, the churn in his stomach returned. Nothing had prepared him for this. Nothing. Not even the strongest joint he had ever fixed in his life. Three minutes passed. Three very long minutes. Eric wanted to start the engine. He really did. And intermittently between the clouded nirvanas, he thought that he actually could . He had been feeling this way for weeks now. And especially when he was high on m...

Flaky Feelings...

One dew drenched evening, still we sat our eyes floating under the ocean of stars. The breeze drifted into a delirium and that one night had you open your heart. But the morning came and took you back to where you smile between your fears. My open arms you withdrew from and knowingly I had shed no tear. Since that day you're afraid to sleep Your bloodshot eyes tell no lie A bowl of sun and a drop of pain is all you'll dream when you close your eyes. ~Proma