Poems have an ability to imply and articulate intentions in ways that regular sentences seldom can. By playing upon the abstract, they etch the very grooves through which their comprehension and interpretation flows. I am not a poet. But I certainly have had my share of adventurous attempts at poetry. I recently stumbled upon this poem that I had written back in 2014. It belongs to the classic ‘love’ genre, quite a clichéd one to be honest. I remember spending quite some time on it, and since it sounds fairly decently put together, I thought of publishing it here. Though I never really thought of a title for it back then, ‘Unrequited love’ just seems fitting.
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I know not how and I know not why
when my heart felt young, caressing the sky
When thoughts and words walked side by side
and I was an open book, with nothing to hide
When the days seemed bright, even after sunset
on the golden hill, where the two souls met
I looked at you then, and I knew what I felt
when all else dissolved, and just seemed to melt
“How could this be wrong…?”, I asked myself
So I gave wings to hope, for that’s all that mattered
and fear fell apart, all torn and tattered
A presence that I sought, and a reason to fight for
pushing my limits, and to strive for more
Time has remained mute, though it has said a lot
a lingering uncertainty, and a twisted plot
I’ve been gazing back in time, far into the past
refusing to let go, where I held you in my heart
I look in the mirror now, and I see a suffering guy
a secret that he hides, and I can’t look him in the eye
There’s a storm raging inside of me
on which I’ve turned my back
its swallowing emptiness, filled with lack
I know that I would fail, to keep chaos at bay
for I have no words left, and yet so much to say
A silent war that drains me, feeding on life’s essence
as I fight against this circumstance, of peaceful indifference
I look at you now, but I don’t see you anymore
an ominous pain, that I’ve continued to endure
It feels you’re here somewhere, but I don’t know for sure
The little peace that I was left with, has given in too
as that one thing fades, that I looked forward to
I trace back my footsteps, to know the wrongs I’ve done
to hold your hand and to pull you back,
and save my dying sun
I don’t know where this path goes,
and I don’t know where it’ll end
As I stand at the crossroads,
fearing what the darkness portends
where the silence is deafening, and things left undone
For the times when you thought I didn’t look back
times when I kept far, and simply walked past
Walk in my shoes and you shall know my pain
when I kept my emotions all shackled and chained
As I enter this final stretch
it kills me to act, as if I don’t care
when all I ever wished was, for you to be here
The wrinkled leaf, has fluttered through the clime
to restore that faith, you lost back in time
I will be the wind, to carry you home
and to make this fall, of yours worthwhile
To ignite the lost spark, and to shine hope
I reach out to you, across this thorny fence
to give you back what u taught me once
Memories shall dissolve in the sea of thoughts
and I won’t be coming back
No ashes to touch, and the time shall age
for my remnants shall go oblivious to the gaze
Nothing to reminisce, numbing the pain
but do glance back once, in case a few remain
I see the sun rising now, and the grass wet in dew
perhaps this is as close as I could get, to being with you
Remember me not as a lover or friend
but as a man fallible and flawed
Let me bleed in this moment I’ve envisaged
so that I may find peace, in the memories I’ve lived
Where the sun’s warmth ripened the seasons
And you… were all my reasons
Where love flourished with the morning’s onset
on the golden hill where the two souls met
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Beautiful poem, Anandbir…one suggestion..the structuring need not be grammatically emphatic in poetry. A wave and a melody can come if you tinker with the sentence structures.
Thank you Goutam. Right, I am sure there’s a lot that can be improved here.
Thank you for sharing this Anandbir, it is so raw and beautiful.
I appreciate you saying that Tanushvi.
Pure form of expression
It doesnt seem to be ageing like the way you mentioned right at start, 2014 or 2021, it seems the perfect rendition. Beautiful poem. Looking forward to more.