Sunder the fine phrases, break them apart.
Still no meaning lost; a puzzle worth unscrambling.
Fine metaphors play havoc in the world of words.
Where do I fit them, I grapple with them when I write.
After the toil it is time to put them back in their place.
I will come looking for them another day again.
When my mind is calm, to seat the infinite words.
On a day when they will seem to make sense, at least a little.
Me, me!!!
- Sepiamniac
- Madras, TAMIL NADU, India
- Not an outdoor person.. prefer to get buried beneath books, music and movies... has these strange philosophies about life that might puzzle you. At the same time, likes to live life. Loves simple people, especially those who veil their formidable knowledge behind humility (The poems here don't reflect my mind or anyone else's. Maybe, just a patch of what various people go through.)
No comments:
Post a Comment