Sunday, May 9, 2010

A Grimy Tussle

Acrid expressions of the water,
pounded core of his chest.
Rustling the very being,
of his form; alive.

Agnostic prayers dealt
with supreme powers and winds.
It seemed soothing, the way
sorrow flew by, unattended.

But when they all woke,
through their fading away dreams.
All they did was try, to clench;
onto the memories from the sleep.

As the fastest gear in the watch raced,
ticking every second with spellbound speeds.
They realized, such relativity was;
never ever seen by men.

With every word and breath that skipped,
ran away the dream he had.
And remained a rendezvous of him,
and his fight, with his brain.



© Rajat Mahajan. 2010

3 comments:

sp.ajay said...

the way with poems is every time a neutral reader reads he comes out with a new meaning that he can attribute; and the writer has just one when he pens it down.

b.e.a.u.t.y.

ecstatic shimmeR said...

such inexplicable comments are what a writer longs for. there's nothing better than someone liking your work..
thanks :)

Suvi said...

she explains the human emotions when logic fails.. she gives hope when feelings turn meaningless.. she is literature..
Dreams are the euphony of emotions and feelings and the writer brings out the best of it in the tussle..
its beautiful!