Penned By B D Narayankar
Day after day
I soak in anguish
It dries like blood on my heart
I try to wipe out
the sheets of bloodshot anguish
but only peel off my peace.
I am left with the raw smell of sanguine anguish
and ruddy heart.
The News Channels
shower bytes in my living room
every morning.
Soaked in anguish.
Anguish of innocent girls
getting molested
Sad, I turn off the box
and begin weaving you (beloved)
into a small verse of mine
No wonder then, I find solace
in the soothing touch of your name
No comments:
Post a Comment