Rolling on
parallel lines of curving paths;
metal chambers of eyes and thoughts,
hoping and wishing as fast as the wheels.
Airs of stories, changing as popping bubbles,
bursting in
seconds, leaving eyes winking,
wondering.
Fluttering pages of
scenes, of abundance,
scarcity,
repeating through the windows.
Floating clouds,
waiting for green meadows,
Of sleeping
dreams, hatching hopes,
To rain in, to
rain in to water, flowing,
breathing.
Criss-crossed
paths of life in metal chambers;
Catching air on
grinding wheels, hot and damp,
with packed lives
on this journey, to and forth.
Dry and cold air
on face, hearts of warm truth
of beliefs spinning around hope’s axis,
tempting,
moving.
nice...love all the movement in this....one to the next...its really smooth...and some unique as well from the criss cross path tot he grinding tires....hope always present though...smiles.
ReplyDeletei like the movement you have in here...not only in the words but also in the rhythm of the poem..
ReplyDeleteSuperb lyrics ... amazing poems you write :-)
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem....
ReplyDeleteconfessing ochre is never far away
Very nicely written Srija :)
ReplyDeleteDid these ideas come to you during a train journey?
Keep posting :)
Jay
http://road-to-sanitarium.blogspot.in/
yup....train journeys always brings in something new......
ReplyDelete