Brown faces turning to a beam of dim light
Being crushed by the feet of walking Sun
Like an old mill making the off-white flour
From whole grains of
Infected wheat
Who ate all the wheat pills?
Why is the invisible worm
Still surviving
On the bed of poisonous misery
Am I that mill owner?
Came here to record my statement
In front of the Honorable Jury
From Accountability Bureau
Of Black Sheep
Am I guilty?
Of making ashen flour out of
Infected wheat
When
I took all the precautions
I should had
Still it got infected
As it grew
From the buds of innocence
And withered slowly
Because of the dark-secret love
Of the unloved cankers
I asked myself again and again
These illogical questions
Only to make myself more delirious
Though
Reminiscence is still vivid
And I couldn’t find
A single miscalculation of mine
Yet
I do confess
That I am Guilty
Of cultivating a dying life
Though I took enough precautions
Though I relentlessly strived to keep it fresh
Though I constantly kept a vigilant eye
On all the possible hazards
Could had come to me
And to my crops
Still it got flaccid
Still it got wrinkled
With each knock
Of maturing chronometer
Oct 31,2008
hey find it good but i need to write it 2-3 times more to capture the actual soul of this poem...gr8 work
Aging is the process of nature...............our testimonials will be the benchmark of our past! ! Great writes my bro Kamran...as usual.
If you live long enough you will get old. Everything in this world is finite. But would we have it any other way? Excellent write. As always, Sandra
SYED, WELL EXAMINED AND WELL PUT! BEAUTIFUL. AGING MAY BE A FACT OF LIFE, A REALITY, BUT I DON'T WANT TO DIE. I DON'T WANT TO AGE AND BECOME HANDICAPPED AND DEPENDENT ON OTHERS. THERE'S NOT ENOUGH TIME ON THIS EARTH TO OVERCOME OUR IGNORANCE, IN MY OPINION, OR TO FULLY DEVELOP OUR TALENTS. TAKE DOWN THE MALLS, CAST OFF THE BLING BLING, FORGET STYLIN', HAVE ONLY NECESSITIES AND ENJOY THE GRANDEUR OF MOTHER NATURE AND MUSIC AND LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. TREASURE ANIMALS. DON'T EAT THEM. SHARE AND HELP OTHERS. IF WE'RE ONLY HERE TO PROCREATE, WHICH BIOLOGY ATTESTS TO, THEN, WELL THEN, DEATH IS INEVITABLE. THE SEEDS DRY UP AND WE DRY UP. YUCK. A GOOD WRITE, SIR. THANK YOU, CAROL
Great poem. Realizing that dying begins at the moment of conception, I live life fully in and through each and every moment I'm alive. Not dwelling on it, yet looking forward to it's intense peace one day. Thank you for sharing, a great write. Very thoughtful poem. RoseAnn
A confessional poem. By using the metaphor of Wheat it starts right from the old Adam and goes through infectious process of aging.... Life is a parasitosis......... Time is an invisible worm as well and there is no insectifuge.
Everyone shouldn't think of death because it is coming we want or not, if we would it would be late we should look at life and love and enjoy our days, after we'll be nothing.
Interesting concept here: 'I do confess That I am Guilty Of cultivating a dying life', the poem is well composed with powerful suggestions and bitter confessions. It is quite terrible to realize that one is living a dying life. I like this contradiction.
Wonderful poem. I love the first stanza
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hey once again another heavy stuff for my poor brain. Kamran too good --nice write +++++10 regards anju