Time becomes a tired child
In this workshop of tiny life
Now the paths greenery and withering
Grown-up more but in dwarfs outlook
At the old bank of searching
Nothing is disclosed by digging the truth
Tired and tired the distinction
Full hands of years now tired roots
On the bud of soil, no one will bloom
The fire of eyes in distinguishing puffs
Belief, lonely wandering clouds
Under the soil seeking the final version of the union
Truth! Nothing is true, translucent but transient
What I see- interludes of drama
10.08.2020 Chattogram
" What I see- interludes of drama" what an in depth ending... that confines the entire poem in just one statement... Beautiful...!
An astute observation on what is prevailing in life nowadays. Yes, truth is translucent but transient and can be twisted. A very perceptive write well crafted.
Time becomes tired child In this workshop of tiny life.............! A powerful and poignant opening! Time and life are equally tired! It is a powerful mirroring of the times when Covid and natural disasters are destroying the zest for living and everyone has tired eyes and diminishing hopes!
Drama! ! ! Growing up! Facing the muse of time. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Truth! Nothing is true, translucent but transient What I see- interludes of drama. The message you wish to tell us, has been brought by this gorgeous write! Indeed, nothing is true! Absolutely right! You see reality. Your eyes don't deceive you! Eachn time I visit your poem site, you've created better poems, Mahtab. This is my way of telling you that you write brilliant poems, absolutely! A 10+++++
Great impressive metaphorical poem, on time and life. Kudos for how you express superbly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Profound poem. Life is a mirage. It is like holding sand the more we try to tighten the grip the quickly it falls apart. Past is the dust left behind it will only makes our hands dirty. Thought Provoking poem 100++