Wrapped in a drifting darkness
Sombrely melancholy taking on life
The winter wind creaking happiness
from love's dead branches
Still the flames have to subside
In her red glow for my pale sky
Love dimmed with discontent
I stand smothered yearning
thinking against reality she might
spin a yarn but 'no';
True love will lose its urn
Until the night when passion
will be burning to ashes
Ghastly cold cutting right through
Mourning the sun's rays to be...
-'The Forgotten'
The river still flows by
She murmurs out of the water
over the mossy pebbles
once thrown on me
A trader yes the one who lost
in the recession of love
Vanity of hope torned apart
when love knelt on her feet
Until the cool breeze
which will flutter all my pages meant for her
Threatening now to fly away
Leaving the sensual longings
huddled against my sterile virtue
on the way to be...
-'The Forgotten'
I now look like a stupid creature
She is sick of me the mad man
In his weekly growth of beard
which grew with my puerile words may be poems
Gasping for love
Three pretty words i always meant
in lies, in truths, in angers, in fears,
She never adored in her giddy airs
How i persist in this poisonous trade
Playing with her fire
Blood seems jammed in one spot
Fascinations shoved her way out
May be it's last breath to wobble
Living or dead for her
and to this world and everyone as
poetry's coincidental calico
Which i will leave
After
my martyrdom which failed in her love
Like an inglorious sesquipedalian
to be...........
-'The Forgotten'
Amit Ray
26/08/2009