Deep down inside me
a dull ache empties me
of all the feelings
I have ever felt
Sprinting, hopping
Stumbling, shuffling
in the crowded chambers
of heart
Now feelings are leaving in flocks
migrating to regions less cold
and an emptiness reigns
over an emptiness,
echoes the sounds
that are dead
Pathways are empty
for emptiness to make home on
Rivers are dry
for emptiness to flow like water
Dug deep like the roots
of an old tree
Emptiness resides beneath
seeing the leaves falling
and the bark going scaly
but no laments it makes.
Nosheen Irfan © 2016
All Rights Reserved
Now feelings are leaving in flocks migrating to regions less cold and an emptiness reigns over an emptiness, Beautiful image of birds migrating to warmer climes and an emptiness pervading the sky! The image of the old tree with its roots running deep, but with its leaves shed and its bark torn is again a symbol of strength defeated by adversity, but which will withstand all onslaught of cruel fate. Profound!
Emptiness! ! Deep down inside me. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
An emptiness reigns over an emptiness, now you approach those regions that a poet has trouble bringing to life. Some things are a hybrid of emotions a mutant arrangement of feelings that exist to the unfortunate soul that is owned by them. Your poetry ranges from the tips of pyramids to the vaults buried and forgotten. Your ability, your gift is like the very roots of the old tree you so vividly portray. Extending deeper with each writing.10
Wow, after reading your poem I am feeling lightweight and the emptiness inside me seems prominent. Poignant poetry............ Loved it...10++++
Well done but too sad that so many humans must feel this way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep down within our hearts we all suffer from a kind of emptiness, an ennui that we often try to fight through some means.. For some reasons, reading your poem reminded me of Baudelaire's 'Au Lecteur', where in the final stanza a personified Ennui sits languidly, smokes hukka and thinks about how hollow the world has become.. Or maybe, the woman sitting on a chair which was like a 'burnished throne' in 'A Game of Chess' of Eliot's 'The Waste Land'... It has been there.. This feeling of emptiness.. All of us human are empty.. All that we can do is to somehow pretend that we are not.. Thanks for sharing Nosheen.. A beautiful poem.