Saturday, June 13, 2009


Golden gates,
At sun down.
I fall.

Around the sun,
The flame licks,
Torching the heart
To a cinder dark brown.

Through clouds
Where I reach out,
For a silver line.
It scars my skin with naked sorrows.

Flights, flocks
The birds soaring.
I plead,
Carry me from here.

The drop ends?
Am I dreaming,
Or is it a nightmare?

Further below,
With its green and brown,
Awaits me with Devil's clutches.

A craned neck,
I look up,
At where it all began.
It did.

With a fall,
A drop.

1 comment:

**Sri Harsha** said...

Ah, a poem!

I suppose this should have a serious meaning hidden somewhere, but can't figure out :(

FYI, I'm just done with 3 big tins of Carlsberg.

Will comeback and read when I am sober.

Or I may not.

Oh shut up!

no, you shut up.

okay!!! Whatever!