Doors are closed
Doors are closed, windows are closed,
The vessels know the noise they have
And I enter into the suspection of dreams
That sometimes cover the bouquet of my brain cells
with enthusiasm and thrill unknown
Decrease the moments
So dear they speak
Not only do we freeze the signatures of pleasure with the glory of our own songs…
Say those unworthy jars squarish curvilinear.
Wow, the exuberance of wisdom so alone I see
And get my precious mind wrap its disease
Into the carpet of truthfulness and sensitivity.
Do not hide it from the happenings of today and tomorrow
Let it all swallow the stern smile so patchy on the wooden plank
And let the space utter the galaxy of short stories
Sparkling on the twinkling variety of stars wrapped in the beauty of the vacuum.
Talk about it,
Let the lost untold bounce once again on the transitory wall
Let not the waves gather into a lake
And let the freshness so maintained speak about the spring created first
in the first seconds of birth.
Rashmi Pitre.
copyright
Categories:
suspection, angst, art, destiny, dream,
Form: Prose Poetry
When a person approached investigatively,
He chases his relations suspensively,
He finds clue and works dramatically,
Suspection always works progressively.
Confirmation of belief confirms sensitivity,
Growth brings a change to work relatively,
Hunger is seeking growth for productively,
A limit of growth confirms value qualitatively.
When population has highly density,
Unemployment works offensively,
Poverty grows to increase crime,
Disaster comes to balance creatively.
Everything is naturally fast and slow,
A person has patience for a balance flow,
Air can’t across a gravity line,
Sun has different heat rates a limit to grow.
Categories:
suspection, adventure, business, caregiving, happiness,
Form: Verse