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Sham Kumar Monger Poem
The day was tender when they met,
their mouths were roses, warm and wet.
The earth held still, the sky leaned nigh—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
Her hands were lilies, trembling, white,
his heart a torch that burned the night.
The wind bent low, the stars drew nigh—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
“O angel, I cannot breathe without you,”
he whispered into shadows’ blue.
Her silence cut, her rage was high—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
Her laughter shattered like broken glass,
his smile remembered the fields they’d passed.
She turned away, the world asked why—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
Beneath the willow he pressed his face,
the soil drank tears, the roots gave grace.
His body trembled, he could not lie—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
The winds that once had stroked their skin
now screamed like wolves that clawed within.
The sun went blind, the rainbow shy—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
“Roma is queen, now wed to the king,
forget the touch, forget the spring.”
The fairy whispered, soft, awry—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
His chest collapsed, a cave of fire,
his blood a river of lost desire.
He cried so loud the stones replied—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
Upon his bed of ash he lay,
a candle flickered itself away.
He dreamed her lips, her shadowed sigh—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
She came at last, her beauty whole,
her fingers thawed his freezing soul.
He kissed her name, and then he died—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
And when he fell to endless sleep,
her wail shook heavens, oceans deep.
The world grew deaf, the night replied—
yet theirs was a love already bound to die.
Copyright © Sham Kumar Monger | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Sham Kumar Monger Poem
at times,
I wish to unspin the sun’s thread—
to weave again the days I’ve torn,
perfect each flaw, unmake each thorn,
and paint life’s griefs in golden stead.
but maybe, the sky must bruise to bloom,
the rain must fall to birth perfume;
perhaps the soul learns more by breaking,
and beauty sleeps in hearts still aching.
so let it be—
this endless sea of rise and rest,
of grief and gain, of trial and test;
for life, in all its flawed design,
remains a miracle—divine.
Copyright © Sham Kumar Monger | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Sham Kumar Monger Poem
I wore no hoodie, no shoes to tread,
Nor did I take her where roses spread.
A glass of whiskey, amber and bright,
The warmth of her hug through the tender night.
The fire leaned close and whispered our name,
The stars above flickered, kissed by flame.
And still I marveled at love’s quiet art,
For hers was the beating that filled my heart.
The wind through the willows hummed soft and low,
The night held us close in its gentle glow.
No palace, no jewels, no riches to see—
Yet ours was a love as vast as the sea.
Copyright © Sham Kumar Monger | Year Posted 2025
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