Sounds of Sorrow

In the Bleak times,

When lights dim,

Feet falter, Sadness engulfs,

Piercing wail curbed in the heart

Fails to announce

The pain I bear

Foreboding load that mind carries.

Crushes the soul.

Could I unburden the past?

The fountain of sorrow

Still untraced,

The perennial spring flows

Drenched I stand.

Still unscathed?

Now that I doubt!

For Long I endured

The earthlings limit

Spares me not

So I too do crumble

In a soundless shatter

Shreds Strewn all around.

What courage will it take

To gather the tatters

Which no tailor could sew

The garment one whole

So let me remain without soul.


Poet of fit and start?

Streak of creativity strikes,

A rare muse crosses my path,

Yet fail to ignite that fire,

The rusted pen hardly writes,

Scarce words the hardly express,

Mind conjures faded images,

That holds not long,

River of thought runs through the desert,

The drought is long,

Could the famine of ideas end?

Will the barren mind bear the frit?

Scorched and parched the heart remains,

Thirsting for the downpour,

Denied the nectar that configures,

Sweetness, scent that bees seek,

The thrust that impregnates,

Plants the germ,

That when grows fulfills the life.