A majestic rose, wanting to pick,
Enamoured by the bloom,
Clumsy hand, eager stretched,
To possess the priceless boon,
Ignored the chafing barbs raking,
The excited quivering flesh.
Bold indeed, in recklessness,
Hedonistic in intent,
Lifting it deeply inhaled,
Its' characteristic headiness!
Freshness stimulated senses,
Memory inscribed the caress.
Aches patronize a catharsis,
Surface deep in dormant wounds,
Masochistic reason fosters recall,
In inclement seasons' of gloom-
And scars, apothegm on healing,
Currently indolent,
Prompted by rising nausea of pain,
Dramatically redden!
That rose is dead. Faded, long gone.
Incipient stirring often betrays,
Not barbs, cause of anguish,
Her fragrance,
The thorn in my flesh!
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Comments: 22
How well said! Superbly rendered, Vinay. The twists and turns of phrases, the metaphors employed, all make this a sparkling piece.
Other than the literary master strokes, the poem speaks eloquently of the sardonic feelings we nurse over past impulsive actions.
The discovery of your work has had a profound effect on me. I can barely contain my enthusiasm. Veda lila: What we see, we become. Whatever we place our attention upon, grows in our awareness. May it be so. May it be so. Because the words you share with all of us fill my day with hope and love and life.