Must it be the creeping sounds?
On dead ends, dead corridors.
Fallen leaves are archaic,
and playful words a cliché.
I have lived too much longer,
The growing signs on other's
faces tell me.
Stand and think,
running makes no sense,
unless the stake is life,
and that too governed by fate.
This dead end has a soothing effect,
nurturing.
What is lost is nothing in reality.
Many are fed up from what you thought
as gain. And besides these old houses,
there are sleeping dragons of desires.
What a little wish!
I wish I could honor.
Jan 22,2011
Peshawar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And besides these old houses, there are sleeping dragons of desires. Fantastic, you have illustrated correctly the desires as dragon. But I think, it exists not only beside the little houses, within the littlest house it can exist Dragonically with its obsessed passion. If it get oppertunity, it can show its height. Actually, living long is not crime, crime is that when dominantly we the human make some life short. Good poem, so, talkings of the reader is so loud. Thank you. Regards, pranab 10