Skip to main content

bachelor's homecoming

It is late night as I return.
The darkness is complete,
having taken over the reins
from half-hearted twilight.
Time has never been a friend;
I close the door on a day
never to come again.
The night begs me to submit ——
The empty house,
with the stale odour of a dead day
leaves no room for choice.
I stand on the threshold ——
A blank epitaph to an absent presence.
I have left time outside the door,
and there is nought to do
but await the next moment.

Comments

  1. sonali iyengarOctober 12, 2010 at 10:47 AM

    good..it is tighter than many of your previous ones. i think you should aim towards this pithiness.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Aditya IengarOctober 18, 2010 at 5:10 AM

    Thank you, Ma. You're my best critic...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Jane BorgesDecember 16, 2010 at 5:37 AM

    I cannot agree less. You have expressed your state of mind so aptly in barely 20 lines. And the best part about this poem is that it gives your reader the ability to imagine you right there outside your door, witnessing the same set of emotions. Good work!!!

    But, yes, come March and the monotony will soon disappear

    ReplyDelete
  4. Aditya IengarDecember 16, 2010 at 8:26 AM

    thanks a ton, jane! very heartening... :) No comment about the last sentence though! :p

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ragtag

In clothes that were rich once, Now reeking of the street, The child walks barefoot, With a swaying balance. Meeting every tired, indifferent eye, Hoping to sell his wares –– A score of heavy colouring books. The boy stood in his man’s garb Of pain and reality, Not pleading, not begging, Harsh childhood-less voice churning out words, Meaningless, worn with use. All he elicits, are shakes of heads, And sometimes, a feigned, determined ignorance. As he waits to alight, Hands still a score full, Does he debate – will he beg? No, he doesn’t. The train stops, the child grunts off, Leaving only a Cheshire look –– No reproach, just emptiness. And in the train is left only A shifty-eyed awareness, and denial.
2 comments
Read more

lovers' choice

If, in the heat of the day, you come to me, I will say no. If, on a night such as this, which has no meaning, yet must go on, you come to me, I will say no. If, in a moment of hesitation, the truth is bared, and unbeknownst to you, you come in a shroud of lies, I will say no. If, in a gentle embrace, sweet words dripping from your hardened lips, where sits wisdom borne of a practical existence, you come to me, I will say no. I have given much. Love needs to be loved too. I must say no.
3 comments
Read more