Rookie - 64 Points (23rd November,1951 / Guwahati, Assam, India)

redolent of vinage wine

As I trudge along to be swallowed by time
only the wounds failing to heal follow me as faithful dogs
Relish of sweets I tasted in life come back but fleetingly
since they don't pinch me in my tattered shoes.

Tiptoeing by the haunted past I trip on jutting jagged memories
my bleeding guilt forms spiky crystals serrating peace to smithereens

Scars left by spiked darts thrown by insensitive minds
Fester with infecting resentments and stenchy pusses
that remain covered by a veneer of propriety
but never die away.
When I try to squeeze out the pusses
my mind warped by suppressed virulence
shed away it's cultivated facade of refinement
Exposing the ugliness of repressed primal hatred
nurtured by a man slighted.

My below par intellect
falling for vacuous praises
that occasional flashes in the pan elicit,
create a veneer of vanity
that crumbles to dust
as life's challenges
mock my inaptness,
prompting me to use false bravado
as a protective cocoon
to shield me from indelible bruises
to my fragile psyche

An indeterminate emotion sweeps through me
not of joy, tinged more with sweet sadness.
Thinking of a life chasing contentment
I lick the wounds of life out of reflex
telling myself I won't do it again
but their attraction gets stronger by the day
As I am bereft of anything as alluring as they
I realise, it is sorrow's taste
that a soul seeks forever
as moments of joy get divested of bliss
by time's discerning fingers
But pangs of sorrow
are like vintage wine
tasting sweeter as they mellow.

Submitted: Tuesday, August 05, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, August 05, 2014

Topic of this poem: sorrow

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

These are stary thoughts. There is no story line involved.

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