(Plight of an abandoned elderly social worker)
Drag a well worn ring apart,
and ring the middle finger,
with a woeful lonely part.
Then crashing let it linger;
slide by cherry's dull gleam,
in the rutted trodden path.
On waves that lost steam,
rest hand on craggy swath.
Mingle bliss in sullen gloom.
Full fingered hand that once,
dealt many a pleasant groom,
drab now lies a forlorn dunce.
Pale and silent sentinel lamp,
on tatty sheets that nasty reek,
shows mortal's montage stamp,
by casting a pitted puffy cheek.
Lone and forlorn attic act,
gone youth's silk and soft.
Plays a miserable tragic fact.
Scarce carps the creaky loft.
No steps ascend a dreary door,
pudgy lids, lug a sickly moan.
No bristle nicks a strewn floor.
A silent cry stifles in a groan.
Toying the pendant's worn chain,
that clings to her swoony throb.
Sills and eyes trickle quiet rain,
as Grim, awaits a shivering blob.
original
saadat tahir
01 Aug,2k12
Islamabad.
i love the poen it has alot of neaning and it made me start to cry...
Saadat this is just so thought provoking and as beautiful as a cut from a rose thorn.... breathtaking just so sad and lovely.... a wow read indeed
Oh this poem is so sad that tears blurred my eyes. Thank you for share,10.
Mind jogging and serious poem. very nicely done. keep it going.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very provoking. You used a minimum of words but addressed a insurmountable mountain of loneliness, lost youth and rejection. Powerful and well written.