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Best Poems Written by Lameesa Sherin

Below are the all-time best Lameesa Sherin poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

Cadaver

CADAVER
(a philosophical dissection)

Dissection hall-bedding the dead,
The air thick with formalin,
Moving blades, dissecting-
The stillness in front.
Frostiness of death, biting-
The warmness of breathes!

Cadavers at peace,
Motionless and still,
Dead and fighting to decay,
Naked bodies-
With veiled existence!

I wonder,
If the dead had left some stories to tell,
Tales that neither made the pages of story books,
Nor been recited at bed sides.

If the dead had some songs to sing,
Melodies that neither echoed in the stars,
Nor rolled-down with the rains.

The untold stories and the unsung songs,
Can never be dissected out,
No matter how sharp the blades are!

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

A Paused Game

A PAUSED GAME

It was a rainy evening of May,
We were tired of sitting and,
Gazing at the downpour.
Through the gaps of my fingers,
The roaring thunder did crawl in.
Tear stained window panes,
Waved wide in the winds.
At out the windows far,
Lay our ground wet with,
The cricket game half done.
And the bat that was aside,
Needed a bath for sure.
The muddy ball needed it,
As well, I reckon.

I wondered, when was the time,
That wetting in the rains,
Would no longer make us sick.
I always wanted to, but
May be they were true.
For I never wanted to be sick.
For being sick is of no good.
Still the rain was at it's best. 

The corridors with no lights,
 Were half asleep except for,
The tapping toes and giggles.
We ran to the old bookcase,
Reached hands and,
Got some stuffs down.
Tore the pages in haste.
Folded it over and over,
In turns till then the boats,
Were ready for a sail.

Side by side in the muddy water,
They made oars of their own.
May be they could know,
They were to sail all the way,
Down the winds, empty.
Empty to them, at least-
For us they were loaded,
With heaps of hopes and happiness.
And they never sink or,
That's how I remember them now.

And finally the clouds lifted,
The last drop was sooner swiped.
Sun rays were smirking at then.
Though knowingly they couldn't-
For longer keep them close,
The trees; big and small,
Held them, the fallen rain drops.
The sun torching lights by them,
Made them into diamonds uncut,
Hanging down from there.
They could have stayed longer,
If I wasn't there,
To pluck them apart for self.

Busy playing then I was,
For they had already began,
The game without me.
And it was dusk falling down,
Had to halt the game till dawn.
It was joyful,that evening,
As long as we never knew,
How thrilling it would have-
Been playing in that rain.
To think of; being sick a day,
Or two was okay, but,
Will we ever get a chance to:
Have a shower in that rain?
Or may be it's late to be that
Great kid again!!

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

Repressed Voice

Every morning at the window aside,
I find myself waiting for the sun,
To raise up and melt the snow, 
The frost so hoar and numb.

Brooding on my thoughts so long,
Never did they hatch in this icy alp,
So still I keep waiting for the sun,
To watch this avalanche realm's fall.

In the darkness of night, I waited, 
With a melancholic lullaby to lull-
The lucid sky to a dreamless sleep,
So the sun can drive in brisk.

Imbibing the cold wester I lay,
With my fossilising will, to stand, 
Gaped eyes set at the horizon,
Oathed never to shut but die.

Alpine sun flaming high above,
Melting ice, watering my hopes,
My reflections blooming in the buds,
I kiss my death, ineffably alive.

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

Swing Set

Swinging back to the old times, 
In the lawn so green, 
With the cheers of kids, 
The swing set was busy, 
From dawn to dusk.
Children waiting for,
Their turns,
To swing with the wind: high above, 
Back and forth,
Till the count of ten was done. 

Now, 
They are retired, 
No hard jobs: except,
For the occasional posing with kids, 
In front of the flashing white light. 
Got rusty with the emptiness,
And a few creaks,
In the flowing wind, 
Just to poke the silence,
Piled between them.

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

Night

Standing in the stillness of the hour,
Staring into the starless dark sky-
Holding it's uncanny secrets.
Coldness of the wind, piercing my hollow thoughts.
Hooting owl, deafening the silence of the woods.
Veiled with the thickest cloak of misery,
I let myself sink into the depth of nothingness.
So, my grey eyes could absorb a bit of your colours.
And light up another candle in the abyss of my nights.

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

A Glimpse

In your life a time is sure to be,
When you find joy in tears.
It’s hard time to be faced readily;
When you call “Oh!” so simply,
God may not hear.
It’s a time when your life losses it’s gear;
You will try to mend each sight,
And thus end up with insomniac night.
Be there friends all around you,
Feel as if you were lone with shadow.

You hear the voices,
That really doesn’t sound.
And you see the faces,
That washes away with the wind.
You believe in them,
Who cannot be trusted.
And you deceive them,
Who you really own.

You live each moment,
Cursing time.
Dug the grave,
To bury the grieve,
But got buried,
Within the grieve.

And you hate everything,
Almost everything.
Except the thing which,
Troubles you the most.
It’s neither a nightmare,
Nor a mirage,
It is simply the play,
Written for you.

Details | Lameesa Sherin Poem

Swing Set

Swinging back to the old times, 
In the lawn so green, 
With the cheers of kids, 
The swing set was busy, 
From dawn to dusk.
Children waiting for,
Their turns,
To swing with the wind: high above, 
Back and forth,
Till the count of ten was done. 

Now, 
They are retired, 
No hard jobs: except,
For the occasional posing with kids, 
In front of the flashing white light. 
Got rusty with the emptiness,
And a few creaks,
In the flowing wind, 
Just to poke the silence,
Piled between them.