//Shadow –II//

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    //Shadow –II//

    Its me
    Somewhere in a corner of the city


    Its me,
    a waster
    one among many
    among the noise
     a silent wastage  

    There might be a curfew in the city,
    there is another,
    In my cerebellum, 

    a massacre 
      of religion
     of hunger
     of drive etc.
    scuffles a palpitating heart 
    into throbbing noisette 
     
    there is enough space for meaningless sounds
      and gargling cries
      of known and unknown

    I would die, then
    another death 
    everyday

     for 
    somebody
    Somewhere.

    The city exhibits an abstract painting tomorrow.



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    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

    abhash0’s Poems (41)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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    //Let’s love// 0
    Dream 0
    a sound 0
    // Signature// 0
    //No more// 0
    // forever// 0
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    //friend// 0
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    /
    1
    // Mask-3// 0
    //Beyond// 0
    //Monsoon// 0
    //Shadow –II// 0
    // cadaver// 0
    //Identity// 0
    // leaf // 0
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    //A song// 0
    // ma // 0
    //Death// 0
    //CRY// 1
    //Truth// 1
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    //Words// 0
    //Shoes// 0
    //An Envelope// 0
    //Friend// 0
    Cylinder 0
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    //Night// 0
    // Memory// 1
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