Whispers’ Tajmahal
A whisper lights thousand lamps
and he sees the ancient art
in those lights- it is her face.
Like a feudal king he thinks
to build a Tajmahal for love
the broken pieces of which
he picks up on the morning next
from the floor of his ghetto.
Her lean body is on the sick bed,
he has to gather enough
to sustain life and hear
more nightly unfulfilled whispers.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 72
from the pieces which break free.
Vigilant devotion and beauty
Thank you for posting to our group.
Great poem, as always, Poddar.
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Have a Great & powerful day W/J!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
from the pieces which break free.
Vigilant devotion and beauty
...and your devotion to reworking your own 'shrine', your poem is paying off.
Kushal, it read much clearer this morning, either a testimony to a full nights sleep for me, or the subtle reworking of a young poet's vigilant devotion to depth and beauty. The Water, droplets of life, are reflecting your light outwardly. They're shimmering.
10 4 u
God Bless
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I hope you understand.
beautiful