My house is abandoned

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My house is abandoned

My friends are left-out

My family is dishonoured

So who shall I call exiled but myself?

The garden has become

A home to butterflies

The river where I used to drink

Has run dry, the man whom I loved

Is dead, so where shall I devour?

There are no rivals of the water’s depth

No saviours for the winter sleep

Another year is gone

And I have unlearned so much

Of who I have been, stripped

As the coals that grew cold

Of the fires where we once sung

My tribe has vacated this place

I borrow midnight frost to sleep

 

Reviews

[Nao Deguchi]

JRP, I am a self-professed master of the wrong light of hope, it's the path of my forver, that's a very correct observation on your part.

[JRB]

Sadness and despair holds all spellbound when blinded by the wrong light of hope,, nice write

[Nao Deguchi]

Hi Sugata, at times I am a sad mystical creator too. Such is the burden of art, so sweet, that we want to experience every sentiment, as soon as possible, and urgently.

[SUGATA M]

Lovely but why transmitting so much of pain and negative energy? Are you a sad poet? Or a mystic creator?