Wistful Verses



Wistful Verses



I write and write, but curses, blights,

Cannot alleviate the pain

The words are naught but hieroglyphs

Just scratches of ink spent in vain,


I pour myself out, there’s yet

So much, so much stilll locked inside.

It wells, it swells to burst- my heart!

My mind and soul are not complied


With each other, the therapy,

How I heal pain I cannot bear

The catharsis is flawed today

The broken lines cannot repair


The despair, the abandonment

A stranger in a stranger land,

It seems I have but lost my way

Following footprints in the sands


And now, the prospect where I stand

Is beautiful- for me, subdued

Tho’ seen from an objective view

Is breathtaking and many hued


But I still long for that one place

Whatever colors it may wear

No mind to its grey shades sometimes-

oh! for just one mere square


Acre of my own native earth!

Mere dirt to others, but my home!

My soil, my hearth, the town, it’s hills

My sky, my sea, the waves, their foam..


I am not ungrateful at all

I have enough to not want more

but in moments of emptiness

I long for my own fragrant shores


So when the dark is imminent

The world dimmed, the end near, nigh

That some day, I’ll go back where

I ached and yearn to live, to die.


And then I know I’ll be at peace

Buried in own my clay, my rain

Turn to dust in my own dust,

– I know i will be home again.  



© CM

All rights reserved



4 thoughts on “Wistful Verses

  1. Your poetry is so good.


  2. Madsies says:

    ❤ No matter how much I appreciate, I'd still be defecient. WOW.


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