The World To Me - Poem by ATUL CHANDRA SARKAR

The world to me
Is a tender blade of grass,
Whose greenness enamours
And sharpness bruises,
Where smiles sport on lips
And the inner wound
No matter how painful
Slowly, silently oozes;
Whose music is the blend
Of groans from cracked lips
And the laughter of those
Whom fickle fortune chooses;
Where slowly, steadily death
Germinates in the field of life
And everything ultimately ends
In a silly set of loses.

(Lucknow, India Dated 05th November,2015)

Topic(s) of this poem: world

Form: Verse

Comments about The World To Me by ATUL CHANDRA SARKAR

  • (11/5/2015 9:30:00 AM)

    Very well-written. Full of life, imagery, and flow. Definitely leaves the reader wanting more. Small criticism believe it should be losses not loses. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 5, 2015

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