art of heart breaking
A too late goodbye denies gravity,
it flies over the tiny patch of green
and sits on the cornice. The dry petals
of paper flowers are on the roof, mourning.
It is dead. Staring at the watch she realizes.
The letter in her clutch is of her friend, love…
a mere rally of alphabets, bleak, black,
inpatient and knows in future it is
going to be burnt…
A smoky smell of the season burns eyes.
Long ago she has been told not cry
by a man who has hidden behind a lie,
who can murmur millions of dreams and
breaks each into pieces with only words
from across the sea where now he is.
A too late goodbye ruptures exchanged vows
secretly.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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Comments: 56
nice images, Poddar!
A man who has hided behind a lie should be hidden.
The line A too late goodbye...is especially poignant!
Thanks for sharing!
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Have a Great & powerful day W/J!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"A too late goodbye ruptures exchanged vows
secretly." Powerful and clever choice of verbs, Poddar.
The dry petals
of paper flowers are on the roof, mourning.
Sorry, but the third stanza has a couple of glaring grammar mistakes.
In her clutch the letter is that of her boyfriend,
a procession of alphabets, bleak, black,
inpatient and knows in future it is
going to be burnt…
However, you need to clean it up. It rambles, is clumsy, falls over itself. Make it sharper.
by a man who has hided behind a lie
"hided" is an adjective, which would mean something is made to look like or covered with animal skin.
The past tense of hid (to conceal) would be hidden, not hidded.
Unless you mean he has hided(meaning toughened himself, 'grew a thick hide') behind a lie, in which case I'll applaud your reach.
Blessings and best wishes - S.
"It is dead. Staring at the watch she realizes.
The letter in her clutch is of her friend, love…
a mere rally of alphabets, bleak, black,
inpatient and knows in future it is
going to be burnt…"
This is such a great idea, getting lost in itself. Here's what I'd do:
"It is dead.
The letter in her clutch, love…
a mere rally of alphabet, bleak, black,
inpatient. The future known.
It will burn…"
I like moving "It is dead" to its own paragraph because of how powerful it is.
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