Valsa George

Now It Is Too Late - Poem by Valsa George

Not many tensions,
Nor any excitement
Life has ever been
A placidly flowing river!

Single and free!

Over differences,
Never been any disputes
Never had to consult,
Nor seek consent

Single and free!

But doesn’t his house
With that cold, mildewed air
Reflect his heart?
A house so full of things:
A hoard of well stacked books,
Exquisitely carved Victorian furniture,
Antique collection of curios,
Ornate drapery

Yet so full of nothing!

The prim order of the house
Never disturbed by naughty hands
Nor shuffled by dusty feet
Dirtying the Persian carpets
Or smudging the glistening floor

The well laid bed covers
Never get creased
By the body’s desire
And Love’s tight embrace
And never, they bear
The fragrance of a female scent!

Sometimes he would shake
From foot to crown
At a question hurled by
An unknown voice;

“Did you squander away your life? ”

Then he recognizes….
He has been a lone traveler
Ever walking through
A one way lane
That will wind off
With a few more steps!
If, by chance somewhere
A new track
Branches out
He would no more be
A solitary tramp!
There would be a companion
To hold hands!

Now it is too late!

Comments about Now It Is Too Late by Valsa George

  • Khairul Ahsan (3/3/2014 9:24:00 PM)

    'Now It Is Too Late' is a beautiful narration of a lonely bachelor male's secluded life, whose 'Life has ever been a placidly flowing river! ' Someone who lived in 'A house so full of things: Yet so full of nothing! ' - So beautifully described!
    '“Did you squander away your life? ” - This question haunts our mind at some point in time or other.
    'If, by chance somewhere
    A new track
    Branches out
    He would no more be
    A solitary tramp! ' - The hope is there that 'There would be a companion to hold hands! ' Nice!
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  • Om Chawla (1/29/2014 1:06:00 AM)

    Yet so full of nothing!

    The prim order of the house Never disturbed by naughty hands.

    Ever walking through A one way lane

    Poignance of loneliness very beautifully depicted, Madam Valsa.
    An unusual subject and so very well dealt. Commendable.
    (Report) Reply

  • Lyn Paul (1/20/2014 5:57:00 AM)

    What a title Valsa. I also love the steady pace and the feeling in the words. A 10 and something for me to look back on. Thank you and I love your new photo. (Report) Reply

  • Amitava Sur (1/20/2014 2:20:00 AM)

    A very poignant expression of loneliness where a sense of vacuum exists.Yes - in this life when a person
    knows that there is none to feel the pain and nobody is to share the gain, this life becomes of no use. And there lies the value of companionship......... truly a heart touching penning.

    Today is my birth day, feeling very lonely, I dedicated this poem to my loved An angel in the night - you may read
    (Report) Reply

  • Kanav Justa (1/19/2014 2:18:00 AM)

    a poem nicely penned also like the way you end this poem, , , , , , , , , , also love dinesh sir's comment, , , (Report) Reply

  • Tirupathi Chandrupatla (1/17/2014 4:25:00 AM)

    Also they say it is never too late. Priorities of some people are different at different phases of life. Poem narrates how things seem to be in a natural manner. (Report) Reply

  • (1/17/2014 4:08:00 AM)

    I have seen the manifestation of this regret and in some cases a correction of course.
    the poem throws up questions and possibilities.
    (Report) Reply

  • Kavya . (1/17/2014 1:28:00 AM)

    Better Late than Never! ! ! this poem very vividly describes the lone life of a bachelor who would be longing for companionship, yes may be he would have definitely enjoyed his bachelorhood for few years, but later at some part of life, you feel there is a vacuum that has to be filled, which should have been filled, and sometimes yes 'its now too late' also attaches to their saga....a very nice write Mam on an unique topic! ! ! ! ! (Report) Reply

  • Dinesh Nair (1/16/2014 11:32:00 PM)

    To the eligible and young bachelors Francis Bacon told that they were too early to marry.
    When they met him after a few years he told that they were too late to marry.
    Marriage is like a phone connection. When you don`t have it, you want to have it. After you have got it, you feel you have too much of it. The write is a mix of everything - what he possesses and what he does not and of philosophic and romantic inferences.
    The aging bachelor in the poem may still require a companion to travel with before he is fatigued and worn out subsequently leading to a fall somewhere ahead.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 16, 2014

Poem Edited: Friday, January 17, 2014

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