A Bloody Battle Poem by Sachidananda Panda

It feels like things are recurrent with me
Maybe the austerities of living a life
Are fond of, a chosen victim
Some call it anxiety, or the yearning
Opinions differ, yet! Count on matters
The connotations too, on contexts

Hounded by history, hunted dear
Every minute event around
Replicate the obsolete story
To become lively again and again
Reminding the erroneous crammed lines
The fault wasn't perhaps yours or mine

The moon, the floating clouds
The early birds or the groovy tunes
Whispers in arms we shared on isles
Often mixed with the rustle of the leaves
Drenched in, for hours in the loo
Unmindful of myriad verticals
On brows of frayed countenance
Spring coloured the smiles on leaps

All those have become monuments
Carved on thin airs of memory
Yet! When it blows
It blows deep to suffocate
Maybe thou have forgotten those
Maybe you did choose it wise
How could you do it?
With such an ease!
When; those are resilient to sit on my ribs

Tell me! The secret, if you could
Why! It hunts and hurts the most
Eyes that have drained to the drop
Now struggles to find means
To ventilate the choked up smokes
Of isolation and ennui,
It bleats in silence
Instead of tears … it bleeds
Perhaps! Am yet to be vanquished
In the bloody battle between
Remembrance and forgetfulness

©Sachi-30thOct.2020
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