Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Musings of a Tide

It has been so long, since I've
written poetry with these fingers of mine,
the modern man's comforts seem to have
seeped irrevocably into this tide of life.
I sit in this room full of people
but why do I feel alone? I visualize
me- the sole occupant of the room
sitting with knit eyebrows, letting the
borrowed quill copy my thoughts- the cheater.


I question life, at times, you see,
a dangerous habit they say to have
for a girl of my age should not be
getting perturbed about things beyond my control.
Pick up a spoon, they chide when I
speak out aloud my worries,.
I miss your simplicity comes another complaint.


I question life, and it's complexities, you see,
I wonder how thing so simple
can be twisted so wrong,
An aspiring lawyer's mind makes me shake my head,
the victim here seems to be life, itself.


The guest presented the birthday boy with a thoughtful gift,
it was up to him to use it at his will, But
the he, in all his eagerness, tore
the wrapping apart,
tore the box apart, tore its surprise- beauty apart,
and when he found the puzzle inside with all it's rules,
he decided it was too tough and sought
the cheat codes.
Thus, man became the birthday boy,
and life- the guest.
Alas,me- the sole human with a human heart, it seems,
was left to muse alone.


For tides come at certain times, and leave all the more soon,
but the waves, override the seconds in a clock,  going on forever,
if the waves ruin the flanks of the coast,
where shall the tide ever rest?
For what will be the meaning of such a tide with no end? and certainly
in all its dilemma, where will it be? It's beauty? It's splendor?
 It's child-like joy?



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