Prem Prakash Limbu |
BRIDGE
I wish I could buildA modest bridge
Across
The limitless spatial sky
Kiss the illusive horizon
And satiate
The thirsty ends
That seem endless.
THE PLIGHT OF THE SHOES
There was a timeWhen I lived in shine
Within the glassy glossy palace
Lusted and envied by every passers-by
Like the Superstar on the red carpet
Unknown of the fate
Now I’m worn out
Lying in a dusty corner.
However costly or glossy
You may look
They’ll wear you out after all
Till the base is plain
And the skin is pealed
Fallen apart your parts
I lie in a dusty corner.
When young and sturdy
They boast your brand and luster
When the path beset with thorns
Selfishly wear to tread on
To all directions and terrain
Till they find unmatched and aged
Then you reside in cruel isolation
With crowd around
Around a dusty corner.
Now I live a life in contemplation
All ignored; All alone
Among the colourful ignorant soles.
Note: This poem is a metaphor to the plight of those aged parents who are
discarded of love and acceptance by their siblings. And this is the bitter truth of the
civilized world which we illusively consider.
ILLUSION OR CHALLENGE
Where do you rise to?What do you hail for?
In front of an azure screen
Where fluffy white ghosts stroll
They haven’t turned evil and dark
They do come with both
Adversity and Fortune
But they are blind
A question to your hope
And a test to your being
Whether you rise or fall
I can see you strain to fly so high
With numerous tiny wings
Attached side to side
Into the empty sky
I don’t know why
I see you weary with neck bent
Or you’re humble
Looking upon many as you
But this is better
All in embrace and love
Than the empty sky above.
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