Thursday, 30 March 2017


Google Image

sometimes it is like a creaky door
heavy and morose  
things inside sound like a carpenter’s workshop
i wait with a blank face, silently
and that is when i want to grow into a forest;
all leaves, trees, barks, pebbles and rich soil,
rough textures and raw smells;
that’s when i realize,
the root of life is far;
cities have overgrown
and i am slowly diminishing
into mechanical sounds…

Visit Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for more poems....


  1. What a metaphor... I can feel that creepy door

  2. i am slowly diminishing
    into mechanical sounds….. wonderfully written.

  3. I think this is a most extraordinary poem, which speaks of a common sense of alienation. This is brilliantly encapsulated in your imagery. Very well done.

  4. Excellently composed. Crafts one into a reflection of things.

  5. Thank you all dear poets ! Appreciation is the fuel for writing more....