Miserable, wallowing in self pity
I while my few moments of silence
Watching the city lights whisk by
Marvelling at the pangs, reclined
want of a pen, some paper
Or the more familiar keboard
All for the paucity self defined
A twenty four hour day bound
Eighteen waking hours unwind
Chasing life's wants and demands
Six hours to sleep consigned
The writer inside, in exile
Living a life of self denial
Helpless stands by, watching
Tides of thoughts ebb and flow
Erased the faint scrawls
Scratched on sands of mind
- - - -
Seema Jayaraman, Mumbai,17Nov15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
re-fueling eh, luv.. come back soon.......................
Yes Wes, most of my muse is while commuting, and as these words ebb and flow and fade I watch helplessly wanting a pen or a keyboard to quickly capture..happy you enjoyed.