Wishes fall lame…
Lamington pastries pester the mind,
Mindless grows the present
The present is devoid of any surprise, It’s plain, with no mysteries
Mysteries are all ‘my histories’ stacked together,
Together we march towards death,
Death is a sweet zilch, which beats the grind!
fine poem Shivapriya; the train would have more flavour if there is a death wish appended; nice to read
interestingly interconnected thoughts... nice write... Asma...
well thought, well laid, i like how the lines inter-link...please give us more!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mindless grows the present The present is devoid of any surprise........... the little poem itself is a suprise when how gradually it introduces DEATH....good job