Wednesday, 29 December 2010


This is just a fragment on of a poem:

Too many requiems, have touched my ears,
And my heart, shellshocked by the loss,
Falls to its myriad darkening fears,
Will sunlight ever crack the gloom,
Of curtains drawn in my inner room.

Tumbling through tunnels with no sign or sight of light,
As if walking under a ceiling of clouds,
How could bare existence become such a fight,
Days seem cold and neverending,
Ever enduring, continuing, blending.

Into one. And is my creativity lost to a death knell,
Is this how creation felt in the dawn when Eden fell.

Echoes, reverberations, ripples on a pond,
Trickling down through emotion's legacy,
Past still holding me in nostalgic bond,
Am I enamoured with numbness,
Do my words curse rather than bless.

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