The Book
Ah, in this unending race, where everything seems to run
There lay a broken home, shaken, unmoved, and undone
Aloof, Alone, Ajar, where just one is all and all is one
Looked for traces, traces of life, alas, found none
None other than pages, old, torn, scattered in dust
None other than pillars, trembling, weakened by rust
None other than nests, of the birds who flew in thirst
Amidst the chaos, Stumbled by a rift in the crust
Flickering eyes gaze, beneath an old woody table
Found a book, in a sheath of dirt, uttering noises of a fable
A fable of old times, dark and worn, livid one would label
Redolent of age, chaos and pain, yet stiff and stable
Compelled by desire, urged to hear the reticent
Whiffed the dust off, to reveal what it meant
Engraved letters shone, in the faintest accent
"Me!" was the title, but the author was absent!
With a heavy heart, turned the cover page
Saw empty spaces, pale, ashen and beige
Like a show about to begin, on a curtained stage
Like a bird about to fly, as set free from a cage
Turned over, found a spectacle, a vignette of boy's brains
Vivid images of robots, lasers, bombs, rockets and planes
Mountains, rivers, sunrise, homes, birds, lanes and trains
A plethora of colors, patches all around and stains
Flipped through the pages, it was a blend of dark and bright
Brights, of a teal sky, with blob of clouds, and a fluttering kite
And dark sketches, of cries and the horrors of a gloomy night
Shriveled parchments, once damp with tears and plight
And there were myriad pages, with fine curves and lines,
As dunes on a desert, infinite ,desolate, cryptic designs
Hiding what not, buried under, quagmires with signs
Like a weary long wait, of ages, slowly which undermines
And then, there was a page, with shimmer and gleam
Bursting with life, dazzling, flamboyant and extreme
As the waves and ripples in blaze, glittering off a stream
And two love birds flighting, a perfect love theme
Soon, reached the end, end of the fleeting bliss
Yeah, the life was gone, something was amiss
And stood bewildered, wondered who's this?
Deeming in the wrecks, lost in the abyss
Quickly, darkness took over, the dusk was falling
At the house and at the page, the night was crawling
Unsettled by the noises, oh!, the dream was hauling
Unrest, Wakened, it was over, the life was calling
There lay a broken home, shaken, unmoved, and undone
Aloof, Alone, Ajar, where just one is all and all is one
Looked for traces, traces of life, alas, found none
None other than pages, old, torn, scattered in dust
None other than pillars, trembling, weakened by rust
None other than nests, of the birds who flew in thirst
Amidst the chaos, Stumbled by a rift in the crust
Flickering eyes gaze, beneath an old woody table
Found a book, in a sheath of dirt, uttering noises of a fable
A fable of old times, dark and worn, livid one would label
Redolent of age, chaos and pain, yet stiff and stable
Compelled by desire, urged to hear the reticent
Whiffed the dust off, to reveal what it meant
Engraved letters shone, in the faintest accent
"Me!" was the title, but the author was absent!
With a heavy heart, turned the cover page
Saw empty spaces, pale, ashen and beige
Like a show about to begin, on a curtained stage
Like a bird about to fly, as set free from a cage
Turned over, found a spectacle, a vignette of boy's brains
Vivid images of robots, lasers, bombs, rockets and planes
Mountains, rivers, sunrise, homes, birds, lanes and trains
A plethora of colors, patches all around and stains
Flipped through the pages, it was a blend of dark and bright
Brights, of a teal sky, with blob of clouds, and a fluttering kite
And dark sketches, of cries and the horrors of a gloomy night
Shriveled parchments, once damp with tears and plight
And there were myriad pages, with fine curves and lines,
As dunes on a desert, infinite ,desolate, cryptic designs
Hiding what not, buried under, quagmires with signs
Like a weary long wait, of ages, slowly which undermines
And then, there was a page, with shimmer and gleam
Bursting with life, dazzling, flamboyant and extreme
As the waves and ripples in blaze, glittering off a stream
And two love birds flighting, a perfect love theme
Soon, reached the end, end of the fleeting bliss
Yeah, the life was gone, something was amiss
And stood bewildered, wondered who's this?
Deeming in the wrecks, lost in the abyss
Quickly, darkness took over, the dusk was falling
At the house and at the page, the night was crawling
Unsettled by the noises, oh!, the dream was hauling
Unrest, Wakened, it was over, the life was calling

The book of life and its many written and unwritten pages. Brilliant, Krish!
ReplyDelete<3 Johnnyboy
I fall short of words to describe ure poem ,
ReplyDeletetotally mesmerised !!!
Too good man....
ReplyDeleteUr getting better with each poem.....Ur best work to date :)
"me! was the title but the author was absent"
ReplyDeleteWow.. what a brilliant sentence...:)
Definitely, ten times improvement from previous work...
Keep it up.... The teal sky is yours :)
Exceptional!
ReplyDeleteConcept - 5/5
Continuity - 5/5
Wordplay - sooper.
If you were intending to rhyme the last words of all lines, it did not come across very well (not to take away anything from the poem, though)
An interesting use of the word "livid" :)
~J
omg..u hv written superb...beautifully xpressd...m not having depth knowledge on poems....but seriously good wrk...vry xclusive!!!!
ReplyDeletend "me was the title but the author was absent"
AWESOME line....:)
wow! this was good... u brought back the memories of T S Eliot in many a places... read his work and you would know...
ReplyDeleteAwesome.. the story of the book in your dreams.. lovely.. some times in chaos peace awaits!
ReplyDeletewhat can I say ?
ReplyDeletePoet in the making --> Poet !!
A few lines of the poem left a mark within me after the read.
ReplyDelete"...where just one is all and all is one."
""Me!" was the title, but the author was absent!"
"..oh!, the dream was hauling
Unrest, Wakened, it was over, the life was calling."
very nice..very potent..
short of words now!!