*In My Room


This is my Room.

This is where I behold 
death in all its detail:
when spiders dangling from the cobwebs
suck life out of tiny moths

The faded wings
lying in dust
 mementoes of their last strife.

This is where I hear
silence breaking in to pieces:
when rain falls 
at midnight.

An orchestra in the beginning
And then an avalanche
Engulfing me 
Through the open window.

This is where I discover
the meaning of loneliness:
when from a sleep of unending nightmares
I wake up,panting
find no one to hold hands with
but darkness.

This is where I realise
that the child is no more:
that he is long dead
stabbed and strangled
and dragged in to the dark

The child within.

This is where
from a thousand paper bits
red in colour and spread on the floor
I read, like a revelation
so small a word
yet so enchanting
'love'.

This is from where all my journeys begin
and to where I return everytime .

To these graffited walls and open window
these orphaned letters in books scattered
the heat the cold
of my Room.


* A tribute to my hostel room where I spent the most part of the last three years.

5 comments:

Rubin, 9446185779 said...

man,
This is from where all your journey begin,
this is the right way to express ur beholds,
keep writing,
my wishes!

Jinju said...

wow!!! i love this poem...just LOVE it! felt like u were giving voice to my own feelings.... superb work! keep writing...ur poems keep me cmng back for more...all d very best, comrade!

'LET WALLS CRUMBLE, LET LOVE TRIUMPH' said...

thank u guys. glad u liked it.

rose` said...

i like it..
"the child is no more"..elsewhere it is on d verge of death..

susan said...

gr8!