Old Memories and a New Miracle – A Poem About Love

I wrote this poem on 21.10.02. Those days I always wrote the date whenever I wrote poems. I don’t have to do that anymore because now I am posting my new poems in  Facebook and WordPress which already show the dates posted. Anyway, this was written 18 years before (and when I was about 18 years old) and I thought I had really lost it. I was looking for it, even though I wasn’t focusing much on that. One reason why I thought I had lost the poem is because I posted it online on a content writing website and they closed the site six years before.

Anyway, today I was simply going to my own old notebooks, to see which one would get my attention first; and the poem that I thought I had lost, was the first thing that I noticed among several hundred pieces of papers. It made me smile, because for me it was a miracle.

(Even though the topic of the poem seems to be romantic love, it is really an unconscious longing for maternal love).

A dark rainy blanket has wrapped the earth;

A gloomy round, the day has given birth;

I am here, thinking calmly about my love,

Starring without a blink, the long rainbow.

The season has scattered dark black patches;

People, for heat, are searching for matches;

In their small, simple homes of road corner;

They are like goats; those are missed by their owner.

Like they, myself too, do not know my way;

Her hot thoughts burn me like the days of May;

All green trees and grasses murmur her name;

And each drop of beauty describes her fame;

A year has passed since I met her in road;

When her lips were off in the ‘patience’ mode;

She was standing still without a response;

Which hurts my heart now, like a twig of thorns.

She made some frequent visits in my dreams;

And showed her mystic face of golden beams;

I thought it was true and opened my eyes;

I cursed my dreams; they told a lakh of lies.

Each minute seems to be a grave for joy;

In the hands of love, I am a playtime toy;

Each of my verse tries to make her figure;

They fail, tasting like milk without sugar.

When I was twelve, I met her in my school;

And wondered to see the sun which was cool;

For the first time, I lost myself in the air.

And thought, “She will be the best one to care”;

Is it possible for a rose to speak?

Have you seen singing snow on any peak?

Do you think a moon can walk with a wave?

She spoke, sang, walked and also dug my grave.

She was a good friend for the first three years;

Like all others who shared my smiles and tears;

The fourth year awaited me with a curse;

To cure the wound it gave me, she should nurse.

It was when she sat near me in the bench;

With each of her looks carrying a pinch;

My childish wish searched love in all her signs;

And tried to follow her face-printed lines.

She read my verses, laughed and chatted with me!

And made me like a honey-sucking bee;

That chants and begs before a new blossom;

And soon my hidden love fought for freedom;

My tender love troubled me when I slept;

For endless heights, my passion was a lift;

My hasty lips hurried to propose her;

My legs pulled me to wander here and there.

Like a dove that has just cheated the cage;

My thoughts flew and filled a short poetic page;

Which I gave her, after checking the time.

My fear flashed in my face like a milky lime.

Her answer peeped out as a fruity smile;

Seeing that, my heart stood still for a while;

But I could notice the bond getting loose;

My feeling broke, throwing away the screws.

Each ‘today’ was worse than yesterday;

My path became a thorny jungle way;

Yes! She denied me and left me in hell;

A cruel beauty has marked me as ‘null’.

My heart carried the load of love with pain;

My thousands of verses gave me no gain;

I believed that she will change her dry mind;

That belief took the next four years to grind.

The stars began to laugh at me during nights;

The sun teased me with hot fingery lights;

I blamed myself for being such a slave;

Who is arrested in a dirty cave.

All those recollections have crowded in;

Each of those thoughts are carrying a pin.

To pierce my heart and taste it’s beating flesh.

In this dark time, they are making a crush.