An Idea, An Image, An Interpretation
I Close My Vision, And Get A Vision.
A Ruddy Shade, And A Clear Sheet,
Drawing Thoughts To Fast Meet.
To Escape The Balderdash Of It;
To Create A Discrete Fit.
To Enhance, To Shape, To Exactitude,
And Evince The Idea’s Aptitude.
From The Murk Of Muzzy Myriad Past,
To The Mystique, Till The Last.
Balmy vivid rays
Gleaming deep beneath to core
Despotic; groaning, whimpering
Frightening-compact, musing muse
Ruthlessly in reverie, indulging untimely
Forcasting vigorous change in the scent
deliberate product of unskinned truth
a bounty of interpretations
long cherished passions
and long hidden desires
bubbling colours of serene sea
blues and violets in her bag
of rocked past and breezy images
growth of unreliable potent
in the shabby grey lap
keenly watching the battle
of two similar blood
whimpering hopeful tears
his heart is dying fast
her love is freezing quick
words never came up
words no more come up
they are torn
for nobody knows how long
but it can’t be forever
they may wait for FOREVER
but die of hoplessness
oh! no NEVER
My heart pampers her. It knows, how she feels! But I am drawn by my love. I am unable to restrict it.
She has told me often, that I need not be so formal with her; I need not care and think and worry about her, so much. I can’t explain her, that I put no effort. Its all within me, ever since my heart was lost to her. I often put her in those awkward situations, when I am unable to reason my worries, and she is unable to understand them.
Lately, I had a fight with a friend, who questioned of her job and her foolishness of falling in THIS pit. It was an emergency; she could have done nothing. She was not selfish to drag me into this. She was helpless for both of us. Her signature on the consent slip, saved us.
In fact, if people knew what was hidden inside me, they would think I am selfish. I am not. I know I am not! But I have no courage; neither to announce my hidden toy, nor to reason my selflessness in this matter.
Often I think , that I am cheating her. I may not actually deserve the esteem she has put me into. It is simply the most purest emotion, my love, whose slave I often become. Something, she has the least notion of.
She seldom confesses her problems to me; in an awkward fear, that, I burden her by these unnecessary favours. It was very difficult, until now, that I have convinced her to not record my favours, for they are not favours…… just…..friendship….
HIS CRYSTAL GIFTS AND REDDISH CRESCENT
DO DERIDE A DREAM OFTEN
EVER WHEN HIS SOUL DOTH BEAT
EVER AT A GLANCE OF THEE.
HIS WANT TRAVELS RUDE ROAD
AND THOU A STONE THERE STAND.
HIS IS PAST BLEND WITH BLACK
A MELANCHOLIC NIGHTMARE,
HENCE THOU DEPART TO FAR A LAND
SO HE DIE ALONE AND UNTOUCHED.