Few Memories were written
In sands of shore
Though tides of time went wiping by
But it sank deep down my heart.
Bitter Memories were to be buried alive
Though they were of dead past
I buried it everyday at midnight
But the very next sunrise I carried it alive with me.
It just took away the present from me
I just sat staring at the dead past.
Many painful tears I shed on each day thinking of scars.
I continued it shedding painful tears till today.
Why do I hang on to past so deep?
Why I am not able to take one step towards present?
When I living in present wearing a glasses of past
Glasses are faded out, I am too worn out
Why can't I see myself in my mirror
And make me realize where these past have left me in present?
©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY GEETHA JAYAKUMAR 2014
© 2014.
beautifully written, dear poetess... Sweet memories like the sunshine if no shine it become dark and it seems bitter ........... but truly you realize all
How very true. It is indeed very difficult to get rid of the bitter memories howsoever we may wish so. Beautifully written.
A high degree of personal involvement into the craft of this poem makes it a remarkable write from you Geetha. What that makes life is our futile attempts to forget the past and dive deep into an unknown future in search of a resort made of marbles and bubbles clustered..... A good poem that demands a 10 from me..
Rightly said. The past entangles with the present and sullies it. Loved the poem thoroughly.
I burry bitter memories evey midnight... beautiful approach to life
thanks dear Geetha for reading and commenting on my poems I appreciate you so much love and happiness always heather happy writing
wow, it was a wonderful read. so simply and thoughtfully written. nice write.
why do I hang on to the past so deep why can't I see myself in the mirror memories are to be cherished forever
Great write of one who has been shackled to the past of bitter memories. The past is buried and gone but the present is here to be lived. This poem inspire one to live in the present and not sit in the rocking chair of the past. Enjoyed it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
when we walk to the shore of love and dreaming for lovely soul of this nature... Bitter Memories were to be buried alive Though they were of dead past I buried it everyday at midnight But the very next sunrise I carried it alive with me.