Neela Nath


Not Here


Pensiveness touches me,
When the last ray of the
Sun, flutters its wings,
to fly away from this,
Woeful day...........
The green darkness,
Sits beside me to knock,
Me with the words-- not
Here, not here is your,
Root in the melancholic
Present, the shady yard,
The monotonous crickets,
The homeward birds declare--
This evening has approached,
As a must, inevitably as
Destiny drowns a good
Swimmer! I can't move,
From the far-stretched,
Growing night...........
My childhood days creep back,
To me-the coconut, the mango,
Jack fruit, guava, tamarind trees,
Crowd in single frame!
Mother lights the evening lamp,
Blows conch, father calls me,
I hear...The evening, my childhood,
And I thus become eternal,
On the canvas of a,
Standstill evening!

Submitted: Thursday, August 02, 2012
Edited: Thursday, August 02, 2012

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Comments about this poem (Not Here by Neela Nath )

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  • Rookie - 781 Points Thomas A Robinson (8/4/2012 2:26:00 AM)

    to fly away from this woeful day.....to escape from the now, back to your innocent youth.
    everything then helps forget today (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 1,260 Points Babatunde Aremu (8/3/2012 10:22:00 PM)

    Great poem. The memory of our youthful days takes us away from loneliness we may be experiencing. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 840 Points Unwritten Soul (8/3/2012 11:31:00 AM)

    Not here because mind and soul traveling to past childhood....wow it always amazing to stay in childhood wished i never grown up, locked in the time machine hahahahaha..nice one Nila! _Unwritten Soul (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Heather Wilson (8/2/2012 2:36:00 PM)

    Wonderful childhood memories, I have never heard of Jack fruit, but the coconut and mango sound lovely,
    A very enjoyable write. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 15 Points Swetha Vanakayalapati (8/2/2012 11:38:00 AM)

    My childhood days creep back,
    To me-the coconut, the mango,
    Jack fruit, guava, tamarind trees,
    Crowd in single frame!
    Mother lights the evening lamp,
    Blows conch, father calls me,
    I hear...The evening, my childhood,
    And I thus become eternal,
    On the canvas of a,
    Standstill evening!

    well sounds like my mother has written them........i mean it.........! ! ......even everyone cherish their childhood days and when you said eternal ohh......it jus put me on the top of my thoughts...! ! ! ! ! (Report) Reply

Read all 8 comments »

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