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My Precious Blue

When surrounded by gray fences In moments of stark empty hours Amidst anginal clouds of thought Compulsion to crawl into cave I suffocate and grope for you My lovely blue... When in the midst of brawl and shriek I am robbed of my water and sky Am lost in the hurly burly of my mind The boat almost sinks in rough sea I pray for a peace as quiet as you My tranquil blue...... When I am in lonely soul The birds are in quest of feathers The skeleton stares me in the face The light confined to its darkness shroud I am in deep need to pursue Your friendly hue, my warm blue.... ------------------------------------------------ 29 February 2016

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Timothy Hicks

Date: 3/8/2016 10:12:00 PM

Wonderful poem, Probir. That blue must be really something special. Liked these lines especially, "The birds are in quest of feathers The skeleton stares me in the face" ... gives me lots to think about. The internal trying to find it's skin ... his identity. In your third stanza did you mean to say, "When I am A lonely soul"...?

Probir Gupta
Date: 3/9/2016 12:16:00 AM

We are seldom lonely. Neither physically nor mentally. But nevertheless certain moments devoid of anything, --cactus moments, --do turn up. This may be naked loneliness. You need something to support..... Thank you for the scope to unfold....