Young days start with a nostalgia
for a lost freedom
Anxiety was the prime suspect.
As the age moves on,
truth consumes the virtue.
I hold this insult
in the throes of conscience with tears.
The dreams did not last long
in the wild eyes of geniuses.
Grace and dignity fell short of sinners.
The prince of blackness strode
on the white souls.
I could not have been a witness
of paradox.
Lacked in the old books
I still wait on the highway
for a sun to climb the hill.
The dreams did not last long! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
What a beautiful, evocative, lyric dance through the world of things and the world of thoughts. I am taken by the °paradox° teetering gently in the morning stillness between old age and youth, innocence and experience. The play between the head and heart, what is graspable and what simply, or possibly all too complexly, is not brings to life the moment when reader meets poem. A spark of light.
I still wait on the highway for a sun to climb the hill........impressive lines. Beautiful poem. Thanks and congratulations for being selected this poem as the poem of the day.
I still wait on the highway for a sun to climb the hill. Subtlety is the hallmark of this poem, It grows on you as you read on, a lovely poem.
A creative and compelling composition. Congrats of being chosen today!
Congratulations on your posting in this category. The poem itself is best explained in the comments.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Satish, such a well penned poem of the day.... congrats for being chosen....10++++++