These days,
a seed is scared of the soil
what if it makes me grow?
And then restricts
my growth just before
I reach close to the birth
of the leaves
This seed is scared of water
It feels that may be
I'll just bloom into a plant
and then this water turns
to a diminishing fire on me
"Nothing can be predicted."
The seed mutters a soliloquy,
"These days,
even the tongue has to be
scared of the teeth."
a seed is scared of the soil
what if it makes me grow?
And then restricts
my growth just before
I reach close to the birth
of the leaves
This seed is scared of water
It feels that may be
I'll just bloom into a plant
and then this water turns
to a diminishing fire on me
"Nothing can be predicted."
The seed mutters a soliloquy,
"These days,
even the tongue has to be
scared of the teeth."
the seed
ReplyDeletethough scared
is tempted.
the water, it resists
the soil,it defies
the air, it refuses
everything,it yearns for
turns suddenly venomous
but the seed takes the poison
for it can't live with or without them..
You have been writing a lot lately.It seems you have found a muse whose mystery and enigma never detracts. And this is very clearly visible in your poetry"water turns to a diminishing fire".Something like this is enough to blow away the reader.
ReplyDeleteI used to write a lot but you know what, some glitch happened and I deleted all my posts by mistake! I can't get them back now and I haven't saved them either :( there were around 25 posts written last year!
ReplyDeleteoh! so i missed those. I hope you are not trying to rewrite those because poetry is a thing of the moment, a magical moment is all it takes.The new ones are always better. And, with this rate you will definitely end up writing 250 this year or even more:)
ReplyDelete