Reconciling

Poetry of sorrow ain't poetry that's shared,
It's to be shelved and forgotten like most nightmares;
Like tears that'd coalesced yet never condensed,
Floating in silent air it failed to ascend.

'Tis scary hours when the philosopher resorts to rhyme,
To escape stoic rigour, for it's indeed a crime,
To abandon the noble pursuit that's long abandoned him,
Blurry eyes let go of the truth, her elusive whims...

To instead note the body that's withered to thin air,
Exposing despair so long hidden in one soulless stare,
The night secures the sobbing chambers, sprinkling silver stardust,
He flinches, then accepts the love of fingers he'd trust.

Poetry of sorrow isn't poetry that's shared,
It's to be shelved, remembered for the few who care;
And now to seek solace in gory smoke rings,
May the night douse my flames as she sings sweet dreams.

Reviews

[Mk.t.g]

"Poetry of sorrow isn't poetry that's shared,
It's to be shelved, remembered for the few who care;"
Wonderful and touching lines, Swagato Saha! Such a perfect selection of words and I really admired how you joined all the sentences. Will read other work of yours too. Thanks for sharing!
Mk.t.g

[Swagato Saha]

I'm glad you liked it. Thank you.