something on my favorite topic, simple plain life- question, answers, doubts....
i don't think when i write..... so there actually no thought in providing a thought now, please read on .....
throwing a glance over the field of
bricks and bars; the jungle rumble
echoing through in caucus tumble,
leaves you troubled and bubbled.
To leave this troubled life's stance
you have a million reasons, but
reasonless, why a path you cant figure.
You have trodden down few paths
that led to illusions of heaven,
only to splash eventually in
the wake, drifting between dream
and reality; spate with confusion.
"How do I move on, should I
walk, run or just pray; give me a
call, a sign, a map, an omen", you cry.
Just so you could climb out of here.
"Veer right or bend left, leave me a hint."
Punish us not for failing the maze that
our past generations created. Its
not a pretence, but caused of destitution.
Now, a reason and meaning you scour
pillaging your thoughts for even a reason
might just bestow power enough to
move on until, that day when all
would seem green, and you can
breathe free again, by your window.
Poetry by Jinu Joseph
Read 785 times
Written on 2010-05-03 at 10:32
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i don't think when i write..... so there actually no thought in providing a thought now, please read on .....
When we sit by our Windows
Sitting on a chair across the windowthrowing a glance over the field of
bricks and bars; the jungle rumble
echoing through in caucus tumble,
leaves you troubled and bubbled.
To leave this troubled life's stance
you have a million reasons, but
reasonless, why a path you cant figure.
You have trodden down few paths
that led to illusions of heaven,
only to splash eventually in
the wake, drifting between dream
and reality; spate with confusion.
"How do I move on, should I
walk, run or just pray; give me a
call, a sign, a map, an omen", you cry.
Just so you could climb out of here.
"Veer right or bend left, leave me a hint."
Punish us not for failing the maze that
our past generations created. Its
not a pretence, but caused of destitution.
Now, a reason and meaning you scour
pillaging your thoughts for even a reason
might just bestow power enough to
move on until, that day when all
would seem green, and you can
breathe free again, by your window.
Poetry by Jinu Joseph
Read 785 times
Written on 2010-05-03 at 10:32
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
