As I am here, kindly wake up by the light
night has walked out of the darkness
the world is in its dream by the tunes
do you still wish by the moon and star?
sun is yet ahead in his golden crown
the fumes of the tea cup gets into the air
taking the tears from the sorrows by the hours
the mist when mislays the tipsy meadow
by the last night embracing the arm of love
on the dancing floor when all steeped in blue
yet many a love stories go unheard
by the whispers of love when delighted
would you not sing a song for the day
the cadence when splashes the heart
by its own illusion onto the evening
still it is long ahead by the flying bird
as today is the day may be your anniversary
of birth or marriage across sweet memories
some of your near and dear lie elsewhere
might be some assignments of importance
slogging at the door of your workshop
don’t you remembers me as i lonely unnoticed
latching on to your thought looking to your call
across the cadence of ages and eons onto this day
when you descend breathlessly to the playground
the game of life yet not complete by the full moon
still moving ahead by the decision when differed
to the next fair by the festive by the crowd
above the podium encircled by the clouds
may be heartfelt or hurtful as you wish to have
as it is yet morning, leaf saunters by its sway
when the breeze cajoles you by your dream.
When morning’s call by the tune, the evenings valediction still hovering by the mood the life hours rushing as fumes… so many thoughts came to the surface while reading wonderful piece of yours…… the inner peep of the play ground of life is depicted so well…enjoyed reading … **Abha**
Subham Stylie.... I like.. more please! ! ! ! ! 'the fumes of the tea cup gets into the air? taking the tears from the sorrows by the hours'... Can I have 10 tea chests of this airlifted immmediately xoxoxo
Lovely poem, eloquent! To the playground the game of life is not yet complete! *10*! ! Great read Dr. Kar ! ! Friend Thad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
‘the mist when mislays the tipsy meadow by the last night embracing the arm of love on the dancing floor when all steeped in blue..’ Liked mucccch. Ten to the power three dr. sakti. Thanks for comments and rating expecting same on my poems if you please