Apr 2, 2016

Confessions Galore

Saurabh Chawla |


confessions galore poem by saurabh chawla


Taking the pen in hand
Running hard on the sand
Shouting loud or staying quiet
Fighting with the inner riot

Crossing the ways
Even the heathen prays
As it was meant to be
Even blind could see

Being born older
Can't be much colder
Laying me to waste
Long enough I've chased

Tired now of walking
Enough of the stalking
I want to settle down
Before I drown

Down the memories, confessions galore
Of the blessed and of the wronged
Sometimes rare or sometimes rife
Till death takes away the life

2 comments:

  1. Down the memories, confessions galore
    Of the blessed and of the wronged
    Sometimes rare or sometimes rife
    Till death takes away the life
    So true...lovely poem!

    ReplyDelete

Your comments are priceless!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...