some months ago when the going got tough for me, i wrote this and cried my heart out. it was written with pessimism - but that's a shade we all get to see in our lives.
AND THE POOR CHAP GOES HAPPY.
GIVE TO THE NAKED YE, CLOTH
AND HE GOES MERRY.
WHAT GIVETH YE ME, MY LORD
TO MAKE THE DEAD SOUL LIVE AGAIN.
YE BRING FORTH RAINS
AND THE PEASANT GOES HAPPY;
THE DEAD MUD BRINGS FORTH FLOWERS OF FAY.
YE BRING TO SOME, SUCCESS KNOCKING AT THE DOOR,
AND THE LUCKY GUYS HAVE THEIR DAY.
WHAT GIVETH YE ME, MY LORD
TO BREAK THE SHACKLES WITHIN.
YE FILL TO THE BRIM THE DRUNKARD'S WINE CUP
AND NEW PLEASANTNESS UNFOLDS AT HIM;
AND WHEN I LOOK ASKENCE AT YOUR MAJESTY
FOR PLEASANTNESS,
THROW DOWN YE
A DEW DROP, ON MY HEART ON FIRE.
FOR YEARS HAVE I WEPT ALTOGETHER
AS A NAKED BIRD, WITH PLUCKED FEATHER
KILL ME, IT DID RATHER
IT MADE ME NUMB AND SADDER AND SADDER.
YOUR INVISIBLE HELP I COULDN'T FEEL
THE WOUND OF THE SOUL, IT DIDN'T HEEL
THE LAVA OF AGONY, IT COULDN'T SEAL
BUT THE LONG WAIT
TOOK AWAY ALL HOPE
AND WITH CIRCUMSTANCES
THE STRENGTH TO DEAL.
GOD, NOW I REALISE
PATIENCE WAS THE KILLER
IT DRILLED MY SOUL THROUGH
AND WAS A GOOD DRILLER.
PAIN TRAINS UP AND DOWN ME
AND THE TEARFUL EYE CEASES TO SEE.
I'M NOT A KID, WHO WOULD BE HAPPY
IF YOU TOSS INTO HIS MOUTH, A TOFFEE.
YE THROW TO ME THE SAME WAY
A ROSY PETAL
TO HOLD ON, WHEN I'M CAUGHT IN THE TIDE
AND WHEN THE MERCIFUL WAVES, WASH ME ASHORE
IT TURNS TO BE A BARREN AND DESERTED ISLE;
A PLACE DISCOVERED AND LONG FORGOTTEN,
INHIBITED BY DEATH
LURKING AT EVERY STEP.
AND SLOWLY AGAIN, I TAKE COMPANY WITH THE SEA
AND AGAIN PRAY, THAT I SHALL CEASE TO BE.
I HAVE NOTHING TO DISCLOSE, NOTHING TO HIDE
YE SENT ME TO THIS WORLD, AND I WAS TAKEN FOR A RIDE.
IT'S A PLIGHT I HAVE A HEART
WHICH CURBS ME FROM BEING SMART;
IF ONLY I WERE A DUMMY
WITH NO PAINS, BRAINS OR SMARTS
I WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY.
Poetry by sania
Read 1117 times
Written on 2006-10-21 at 05:37
Tags Pessimism Sadness Lamenting
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LAMENTS MY HEART
GIVE TO THE HUNGRY YE, FOODAND THE POOR CHAP GOES HAPPY.
GIVE TO THE NAKED YE, CLOTH
AND HE GOES MERRY.
WHAT GIVETH YE ME, MY LORD
TO MAKE THE DEAD SOUL LIVE AGAIN.
YE BRING FORTH RAINS
AND THE PEASANT GOES HAPPY;
THE DEAD MUD BRINGS FORTH FLOWERS OF FAY.
YE BRING TO SOME, SUCCESS KNOCKING AT THE DOOR,
AND THE LUCKY GUYS HAVE THEIR DAY.
WHAT GIVETH YE ME, MY LORD
TO BREAK THE SHACKLES WITHIN.
YE FILL TO THE BRIM THE DRUNKARD'S WINE CUP
AND NEW PLEASANTNESS UNFOLDS AT HIM;
AND WHEN I LOOK ASKENCE AT YOUR MAJESTY
FOR PLEASANTNESS,
THROW DOWN YE
A DEW DROP, ON MY HEART ON FIRE.
FOR YEARS HAVE I WEPT ALTOGETHER
AS A NAKED BIRD, WITH PLUCKED FEATHER
KILL ME, IT DID RATHER
IT MADE ME NUMB AND SADDER AND SADDER.
YOUR INVISIBLE HELP I COULDN'T FEEL
THE WOUND OF THE SOUL, IT DIDN'T HEEL
THE LAVA OF AGONY, IT COULDN'T SEAL
BUT THE LONG WAIT
TOOK AWAY ALL HOPE
AND WITH CIRCUMSTANCES
THE STRENGTH TO DEAL.
GOD, NOW I REALISE
PATIENCE WAS THE KILLER
IT DRILLED MY SOUL THROUGH
AND WAS A GOOD DRILLER.
PAIN TRAINS UP AND DOWN ME
AND THE TEARFUL EYE CEASES TO SEE.
I'M NOT A KID, WHO WOULD BE HAPPY
IF YOU TOSS INTO HIS MOUTH, A TOFFEE.
YE THROW TO ME THE SAME WAY
A ROSY PETAL
TO HOLD ON, WHEN I'M CAUGHT IN THE TIDE
AND WHEN THE MERCIFUL WAVES, WASH ME ASHORE
IT TURNS TO BE A BARREN AND DESERTED ISLE;
A PLACE DISCOVERED AND LONG FORGOTTEN,
INHIBITED BY DEATH
LURKING AT EVERY STEP.
AND SLOWLY AGAIN, I TAKE COMPANY WITH THE SEA
AND AGAIN PRAY, THAT I SHALL CEASE TO BE.
I HAVE NOTHING TO DISCLOSE, NOTHING TO HIDE
YE SENT ME TO THIS WORLD, AND I WAS TAKEN FOR A RIDE.
IT'S A PLIGHT I HAVE A HEART
WHICH CURBS ME FROM BEING SMART;
IF ONLY I WERE A DUMMY
WITH NO PAINS, BRAINS OR SMARTS
I WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY.
Poetry by sania
Read 1117 times
Written on 2006-10-21 at 05:37
Tags Pessimism Sadness Lamenting
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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R.K.Singh |
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R.K.Singh |
