Monday, January 10, 2011

The Moment


Why doesn't the dazzling sun of the day
            Tired of its’ daily errand, give way
To a dusk, unblemished and pure
            Painting the sky with vivid hues for sure;
With shades of vermillion and yellow
            And tinges of orange and red to follow;
Hinting the longing birds that it’s time
            To fill the air with sweet muttering rhyme
Rejoicing the flight back to their nest
            Forming nebular silhouettes on the west;
Creating the moment
            When it’s not so hard
For my feelings to give vent
            Not uttering a word?


Why doesn’t the crescent shaped moon
            Illuminated by an unknown boon
Hide her visage with slender shrouds
            Of freely floating white clouds,
Playfully wafted by the wanton wind
            Of the crazy joyous month of spring
Webbing a vista of mysterious mesh
            Of charming moonlight and shade
Creating the moment
            When it’s not so hard
For my feelings to give vent
            Not uttering a word?


  
Why doesn’t the undergrowth thick and green
            Spread apart revealing a path calm and serene,
And with all its veiled mystery and guile
            Tempt me to tread along it and reconcile
With sights of butterfly adobes with fragrance delightful
            And of grass blades adorned with pearls plentiful,
Leading onto a lake clear blue and pure
            With reflections of trees and the sky azure,
Where playful swans oblivious of pain and pleasure
            Craft perfect symmetrical ripples on the water
Creating the moment
            When it’s not so hard
For my feelings to give vent
            Not uttering a word?

           
The dazzling sun of the day
            Tired of its’ daily errand has given way
To a dusk, unblemished and pure
            Painting the sky with vivid hues for sure.
The crescent shaped moon
            Illuminated by an unknown boon
Has hidden her visage with slender shrouds
            Of freely floating white clouds.
The undergrowth thick and green
            Spreading apart has revealed a path calm and serene.
This is the moment for my feelings to give vent.


But to whom? I wonder.
Alas, I’ve lost her forever.

           
           

  

           

             


1 comment:

  1. My friend .. you have not composed poetry in a very long time.

    ReplyDelete