A call

Not any guiding verse , not even a prophecy
More like one on one talk with me
Or may be with god about life in jeopardy
Been with mystics, truth seekers, their philosophy.
Simple fact ,this soul not being me but somebody.
mirror on wall ,taught me to be with world's symphony
Hence , an abandoned coprse lying in disguised tragedy.
Marks on my heart,handful that walked over it
I let them , i never had my emotions on chastity.

Shaping up thoughts, the blank paper
Seems the mess like the stars or a scrabble.
often the guilt tripping seldom the conscious flipping.
A conflict , with a thought of life without whine
But everytime words precedes the interrogation signs.
Then a call to him , looking at the sky
Sometimes looking deep down inside.
Still every time I dip nib in the ink
It feels like the first time .

Reviews

[Kat Leila]

I could feel the connection we have as writers as I read this poem. Very well done!

[amrit]

im glad u could relate well , thanks for taking the time out to read it .. :)

[MsJewel]

We write for different reasons, but I believe many writers/poets can relate to you words. I really like the last few lines - "Still every time I dip nib in the ink, it feels like the first time". A great ending to a well written, enjoyable poem.

:) Julie

[amrit]

im glad u took out the time to read and thanks for appreciating . :)