MOHIT MITRA Poet Rhyme

Knockin’ Awe

—Where Silence and Heart Conspire—



Who knocks upon my bosom? I start, bemused,
         though you already throb within my breast;
a quiver stirs where awe and breath are fused,
   yet still a rapping breaks the quiet rest.


The candle flickers, amber smoke ascends,
       its halo swaying like a bowing head;
a leaf leans forward, murmuring, it bends—
   I almost chuckle at the words unsaid.


The wind threads fingers through the curling ivy,
        stirring moss and stone beneath my careful tread;
each breath tastes pine and faint, honeyed sky,
        as echoes fold where quiet footsteps spread.


I glance at shadows curling on the wall,
  they hesitate, like strangers unsure to stay;
the room hums low, rehearsing every call,
      a velutinous music trailing through the day.


And now I know the source, yet still I pause:
        no hand should touch this sacred, tender space;
you dwell inside, the only guest I cause,
       the throb, the sigh, the familiar, private place.


Awe swells again, as silence gathers round,
        the rapping hums, a visitor unbidden;
its subtle cadence threads both sight and sound,
     a paradox my heart alone has hidden.


Love is the knocker and the hollowed bosom,
         the visitor, the home, the mystery, the key;
it lingers in the throb, perfumes the cheeks,
   revealing verities that hearts can see.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment