Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
Strange Void after a long Monsoon.
The canvass white stares without a blink,
Waiting without anticipation.
The paint brushes have gone idle, and sleep,
In their cozy holsters, dry like dead eyes.
The Colors are all there,
The rainbow looks flat.
None of them are alive, all serene, calm and futile.
Time which stood still, has evaporated
There is nothing which I recognise.
I am not sad, neither in pain, nor numb.
Perhaps just about to summit the unknown.
And find the salt, that gave a taste to my soul.
Comments about this poem (Strange Void after a long Monsoon. by Hardik Vaidya )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley