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Obituary
by Shernaz Wadia
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  Yesterday’s unexpressed thoughts
die on their way to tomorrows.
My muse, like a discarded carriage,
sits on the end of today’s tracks
that lead to the middle of nowhere.
 
My present - a stagnant pause -
between the acme and nadir of inspiration
Weeds of weariness strangle
half-formed poems in their infancy
I bury the corpses in my mind.
 
They haunt the subconscious
dark, looming, oppressive shadows
refusing the graves I dig for them,
seeking release from oblivion...
What salvation can I offer them?
 
I, who limp through words and phrases,
struggle under the weight of unfinished
sentences and incomplete ramblings.
I can only keep vigil with those ghosts.
In their freedom is my deliverance
Share This:
March 28, 2013
More By: Shernaz Wadia
Views: 614      Comments: 4

Comments on this Poem

Comment Sony Dalia, I must thank you for your appreciative comment. Your appreciation is always welcome.

Shernaz
03/28/2013 14:17 PM

Comment Thanks for a nice poem, many would like to identify with. Progress from specific to universal. A typical Shernaz poem.Best.

Sony Dalia
03/28/2013 08:48 AM

Comment Extremely nice of you to have read it and commented so favourably, Padmaja. Yes, I am sure most writers will identify with it. Thanks a lot.

Shernaz
03/28/2013 07:20 AM

Comment Exquisite! A poet's dilemma at times, excellently articulated. Thanks Shernaz for writing this poem that quite a few of us can identify with.

Padmaja Iyengar
03/28/2013 05:11 AM




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