Sunday, October 12, 2008

A night and two strangers under the sky

This is my first foray in to the world of poetry.
A potpourri of words, scrambled up in my mind, has made its way into verses. Appraise the profundity else brickbat if it makes zilch sense!

She had no chance to undo what she had already done,
A clandestine act, without dignity and yet no regret, was difficult to pardon.

Startled by his irrefutable voice, she could only manage a monosyllable,
Being with him on a starry, no moon night, seemed just like a fable.

She wanted to break free and run miles away from him,
But defenseless she stood, and let him own her without a whim.

Never been kissed before, she was swamped by her juvenile instinct,
The arch of his body and strength of his ribs made her submit, it was distinct.

The touch of his lips on hers, yes she was naive, she went colorless,
Was it a seal of unrequited love or an inexplicable contempt? she was clueless.

The gripping feel of his skin against hers, concealed her emptiness with passion,
She gave all she had, without any expectation and unconditional devotion.

He left. An empty bed and a battered soul with an un-amendable crack,
Indifferent he was, she knew he would never look back.

The days she walked past the bench, they sat once together under the starlit sky,
She would question the deliberate obscenity of the night, but had no answers to all her why’s.

Plagued by her obsolete and isolated feeling, she let no one else enter her life,
Every night bygone, she choked and paid a silent penance for an unspeakable crime.

But as the days progressed into night and the dusk sprouted into dawn, her conscience confiscated,
She realized that she was loosing herself to someone, who never acknowledged, she existed.

And so it dawned on her, that she should unclasp her life, from his groping memory,
She promised to abandon her sniveling sob and put a halt to her never ending reveries.

Although the night re-iterated in her mind, for it was, a beautiful, immaculate reminiscence,
But she liberated herself from ‘him’ and the suffocating vacuum left behind by his absence.

Her sad, gloomy eyes tainted with tears finally became diaphanously clear,
Her days became a shade happier and the moon glowed in her dark room with an unforeseen sheer.


Harish - Check it out said...

kya yaar, itna sentimental..!! but nevertheless its a good start..!!!

justforpraveen said...

Waaw . I never knew you could write poems as well. Good work and I would love to read more .

I used to and still write lyrics for songs but never such a good poem.I had written one with roughly the same title few years ago for my so called rock band.

Alas my original collection is lost while I moved my stuff back to hometown.

Is this just a poem or means something more :)

Elamparithi said...

good one (bit senti)... first attempt..gr8 piece of work there

Arpita said...

Well..I don't know why, but I could never coin poetic verses when I was happy..a number of incomplete poetic expeditions are a witness..I always wrote poetry when I was sad..or better, I always wrote poems with a melancholy note.

Arpita said...

I never knew it myself too, until I did:)
Though I have a lot of unfinished ones scribbled in my diary..which will remain so, because either I have run past those times, events and people or have simply become numb towards them.

Arpita said...

For the former part of your comment refer to the counter-comment thrown at Harish...hahahahaha
And for the latter part..I'm glad you liked it!Thank you.

tanuj solanki said...

vivid imagery,

with strains of doubt, contempt, and clarity... phase-wise

I did not understand usage of the word 'Plagiarism' somewhere in between...

I am offering you links to two of my posts... one about melancholic poetry, and the other about related feelings across the gender

Pls do visit


Arpita said...

Big time erratum!!!
I wouldn’t expect myself to deduce sense out of it either. It was plagued and not plagiarized.

You understand poetry, and not merely read it, don’t you?

Arpita said...

BTW this deserves a mention:
"A poet can survive everything but a misprint."-Oscar Wilde
For obvious reasons, I couldn't have comprehended it better,had you not mentioned the anomaly!

tanuj solanki said...

I know...

happens a lot with me too I guess...but no one has pointed it out yet :)

have written some new stuff!

do check

Arpita said...

I assume the need hadn't arise as yet for the very simple reason,that your poetry might look magnificently simple in words but the underlying truth in your verses are hidden in fissures, somewhere, which demands a lucid mind ;)