Thursday, 5 January 2017

My Bruises.............

At first when the rose splint wound me,
I didn’t cry in torment,
Determine  to absorb the pain  in my bosom,
Carrying the bruise ,I will smile with satisfaction,
I attempted  to paint white in my walls,
Fill my canvas with dotted marks,
But nothing .....can hide your remarkable spark,
Slowly and slowly the sting becoming intense,
With every passing phase ,
The injury instead of conciliate,
Becoming acute and potent,
My  empiricism turn to rodents,
I see you in crowd  so in shade,
You cloud my mind so my space,
My pond crave for lotus ,instead of lily grace,
I  started exploring you in  sea and in hilly base,
Every where I return unrewarded,
My hope  tottering and mind stained,
 In the lissom  booth you are prominent,
The laceration hums your name.
Intermittently  I hunt you in bruises.  



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