Followers

Friday, August 15, 2008

Withering love





Were you here again yesterday
touching the chords of memories

Memories have gained weight of late
and are getting stuck in
the glue of life

I am weak even to ask myself where to go.
In my solitude
extinct antique passions
peep in and withdraw
How frightening!
Moments getting hot
with oozing desires

Have we ever met
and forgot each other for ever
Never, never;
or it may be only a broken
piece of memory

This isn’t the song of silence
from the coffin of verses
this isn’t despair
but only a weird
soliloquy at the
end of all tears

Never will I ask the destination
Never will I ask whether you
realize yourself

Once we stole into the darkness
and eloped with our little love
Those nights of fear
in the city
suspicion in the form
of humans,
The strangers,
The anxieties caused
even by a small sound
Unknown voices from nowhere
tearing apart the wind


Everything have dried up in this
barren mindscape

How blank are these nightfalls
They utter nothing
just like you
May be counting something
with head down

Like the burning tar roads
were the pathways of our affection
Like the cracks in a
dried up and forsaken
grassland

Yesterday also I
spent my solitude in the
cashew shades where the vestiges
of our intimacies were rotting
Got tired searching your face
among the twigs in vain
Even the chirping birds also
flew away.

How lonely are the days
which bear the entire
grief of the years
How can I say death
is powerless

Weeds of despair
mushrooming in
this mind

Immortality in all its
vigor just pays infrequent
visits to this frail
existence

After all what is now
left in this
rib-cage?

poem by m k harikumar

www.mkharikumar.com

poem by m k harikumar

Words throbbing to bid farewell

I am a sentence reeling under intense pain
Words with vivid meanings
come alive humming farewell tones
in antique darkness

Then each words start
leaving me in discord

Frozen bodies of lifeless birds
get entangled in my throat

Words become intolerant
to each other
Each word is seeking its
roots

felling that it is enough hanging on
the ladder
they part from each
other and set journey into
chronicles of their
previous lives

When they all left, I became the vestige
of a deserted voice zone