Classic poem of the day
Go, dragon-fly, fold up your purple wing,
Why will you bring me tidings of the spring?
O lilting koels , hush your rapturous notes,
O dhadikulas , still your passionate throats,
Or seek some further garden for your nest ...
Your songs are poisoned arrows in my breast.
O quench your flame, ye crimson gulmohurs ,
That flaunt your dazzling bloom across my doors,
Furl your white bells, sweet champa buds that call
Wild bees to your ambrosial festival,
And hold your breath, O dear sirisha trees
You slay my heart with bitter memories.
O joyous girls who rise at break of morn
With sandal-soil your threshold to adorn,
Ye brides who streamward bear on jewelled feet
Your gifts of silver lamps and new-blown wheat,
I pray you dim your voices when you sing
Your radiant salutations to the spring.
Hai! what have I to do with nesting birds,
With lotus-honey, corn and iv...
member poem of the day
I walked down the open road and saw my life before me. Options and choices and decisions. Great careers and dead-end misery. I saw marital bliss with many children. I saw a solitary existence of loneliness.
Time stood still as I watched my life. All the clocks read 9:34 as I heard the same song in my ears over and over again. Reminding me. All the things I'd loved and gave away. All I things I loved and lost. But one thing had remained constant, though, in my sad little world. The silence.
But then the snoring of my sleeping past threatened to awaken. The shadows of my future peek through the dirt stained windows of my self-created Hell.