Sunday, June 2, 2013

to Somnath...O my friend...a long time back!

what an evening...
a terrace...
a song...
a music player...
a song...
and one friend
with whom spent sleepless nights long...
with cups of coffee....
sheets of paper works...
Ginsberg...
To Robert Frost....
and some sweet sweet recollections...
and a sense of bond...
overwhelming...
am i not still weeping inside?
am i not again dying...inside?
am i not sinking?
are we both not...
now that the terrace is also listening...
to our silence...
our pauses....
and our talks...
our drifts...

just...
this life...
this life
a snap shot...
will it not also be stored
into the long and widened celluloid
of Life larger than that?

Good evening friends...
lets live with Only joy...

and what am i to tell you
dear Somnath?
you got my all...
my love...
my Sylvia Plath!
my dewy death...
my self assigned Path
and Isabel...
italian refuge...
and
rain coat
all over a wet soul!

No comments:

Post a Comment

The State Funeral

At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut,  She could not have spoken for  The rare award,  The police have done the th...