Life has moved forward,
Time turned to five seasons,
But I stand here still.
Here in this old attic,
With this half torn,
Yellow page from my diary,
Held in my heart!
Letters scrambled, yet!
Has a shade of a golden ink,
Over the edge of
Old blank inkpen's vomit,
Spread into million dots!
By tears fallen from eyes!
But now I share a laugh,
With that unrealistic,
First ever poem of mine!
The clash of faith,
And unknown reasons to end!
Mistakes are bound to happen
Aren't they?
In the flames of passion,
I am burning it now,
Let it light my thoughts,
Let it show way,
To a new write,
May be a better one!
Yet a blue spark came from it,
And I heard a small cry!
After all, It was alive!
Once!
Yes life has to move forward. A great message in this poem and i really liked the optimistic approach! ! ! :)))
oh so finally the past is buried for good looking for a brigher present and future, , , , a gud write aswath
beautiful..! ! so touched and inspiring it should be life, there is always a time for recovery great thought and very good written
past are like shadows of our life bcoz light flows over it. a beautiful ink searching to flow in your thoughts.
you have pulled a beautiful poem from your magic box. we all recover from the first poem my do we ever. But there is many more to come in the future. keep writing you are very talented. (and I love your name)
Times ahead have to make the amends and certainly there is a recovery awaiting.. An engrossing poem of the kind, dear Aswath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yet a blue spark came from it, And I heard a small cry! After all, It was alive! Once! loved it. please read some of mine. :)