The Purse
During my living
My melodic dream I longed for
Sprouted in me
The nature of the self-appraisal
With my life stunning in vivid shades
I scribbled the poetry.
In the blank paper
Of my innermost minds.
I grasped – you and me
Quite distinctly
Highest in morality
Topmost in significance
This lust of mine
Smashed these words
Of this poetry of mine
In numerous forms
In several fragments.
These words I etched
Shattered all over the grounds
may spin out in futility
I amassed them into my purse
And constrain meticulously its mouth.
Eventually,
At the moment when I set myself
Selecting and
Choosing each words
In the winnow of my inner minds
The similes of the words
Revive and breathe as it’s again
In the poetry of mine.
*
Copyright © Pushpa Tuladhar | Year Posted 2020
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