Monday, February 15, 2010

The Last Grain

Tranquility,
In the moist breathe;
Seethes
Through the stifled throat
As beads of fear
Shroud the craggy lines of fate.


The netted beams of the moon,
Peek
Through the monsoon clouds
And the reeky night; they
Glimmer on the murky puddles
In the backyard.


The last drops of oil
Feed the wick; the flame
Flutters in the icy breeze.
A trickle down her cheek,
As the knells croon …
The last grain of time drops.

2 comments:

  1. I liked the intensity of emotion portrayed in this poem.. The monsoon clouds, the murky puddles, the icy breeze and the tear down her cheeks..they all blend so well. Nice read!

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  2. hey lakshmi! that's exactly what i wanted to portray. so, good to hear that from you... thanks!

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