The Changing Picture Poem by Nosheen Irfan
The Changing Picture
The picture faded in a pile of dust
As everything else does after many
suns shine on it and color it rust
till it discolors in the night of mind
How old, how precious
It doesn't matter
It was there and then it left its place
for new things, as the trees broke
into new blossoms of love
You pick up the pieces, your hands recoil
from the dust of a thousand storms
that blew away the fields of love
and left a scatter of memories in wake
How it hurt or made you bleed
It doesn't matter
It was there and then it left its place
for new faces, as the lips broke
into new smiles of coquetry
How old, how precious It doesn't matter It was there and then it left its place for new things, as the trees broke into new blossoms of love........so true. A beautiful philosophical poem on life has been presented here astutely. Thanks for sharing.
You pick up the pieces, your hands recoil from the dust of a thousand storms that blew away the fields of love and left a scatter of memories in wake......amazingly narrated...thank you for this beautiful sharing :)
This is the inevitable law of life! However precious a relationship might have been, once it is removed either by time or self or fate or chance, new ones will eventually come to take its place! Pining over what has been lost is foolishness and changing with changing times is adaptability, which is needed to proceed in life! A great write Nosheen!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 6:36:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Excellent. I can only visualize the impact of a pile of dust that goes into the trajectory. Top score for this magnificent piece of poetry! !