Broken Is My Tryst With Words Poem by Savita Tyagi
Broken Is My Tryst With Words
Some time I read an old poem,
Brought back to me by some
Poet friend's comment,
And wonder, did I write this! !
More than being lost to the outside world,
The poems have departed from my own memory
Flying high upon a rhythmic swing
Their words are beyond my reach.
In my sleep I sense myself
Searching for some conscious
Conversation of the day just gone by—
Like a thirsty walker stumbling upon sand
Or a ship being pulled through shallow waters.
The richness of the day
And serenity of the night
Imprisoned in the static silence
Of a strange world.
Banging on those closed doors of memory
Neither awake nor asleep
Unable to reclaim what once was mine,
I simply nurse my inertia.
Broken is my tryst with words!
Silvery beams in
scattered hair-
What shines upon me?
The sky is moonless!
Savita Tyagi
9.20.2020
Memory fades. It can be for the better or worse for us and those around us. A few years ago i started to put a container of milk into a cupboard for dishes. But, is THAT due to memory? Or was i just goofy? ? ? I think the meaning of last 4 lines escapes me. silvery beams? : ) bri
'And wonder, did I write this! ! ' I've had this happen to me.
So true and insightful! But remember my dear poet, when one door closes two more swing open.
The richness of the day And serenity of the night Imprisoned in the static silence Of a strange world.It's true in the case of people like us
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 12:29:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Gave this 5 stars---I am constantly feeling startled by something that I wrote a while back--- a while can be a day---and think WoW or Ick... loved how you expressed yourself in this poem