A Murder

A soul was murdered in the middle of a night
The dark robed words were mightier this time
There were no harsh screams,no tinge on blood
The silent night was the only witness ,around.
There were no glistening arms,no long trials
It just buried itself deep within the trunk.
There was no word of an afterlife,nor of heaven
It promised itself not to raise the head again.
It came down from the world of clouds above
For the clouds were not intended for the hapless.
It abandoned the narrow allies of broken love
And a weeping soul on the other side of the world.
Silently it watched the thrashes on the body
Lying beside a stinking heap of dreams.

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About Fathima Manal

Dreams,fantasies,words and rhythm-other than skin,bones and muscles I am made up of these.With every drop of blood that my heart pumps,a new dream forms in me.With every breathe,i take the surroundings too inside me.And my poems are just the minute regurgitants of what i accumulate within. I am a doctor from Kerala,India,who should not be supposed to but is in deeply love with words and books more than medical books.Hope you enjoy my poems......

5 thoughts on “A Murder

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    “A murder”,by its very title adroitly misdirects the unwary reader’s expectations. The poetic narrative delivers a discursive,allegorical dissection on the topic of disappointment and disillusion.

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  2. Mohammad ashraf

    As the civilisation marched on,it was at the cost of murdered tradition. . .we killed the self,we slaughtered the values,we murdered God . .we are murderers. . .and such a murder can’t be undone. .the corpse can’t raise its head again. . .we killed the soul. . .we are materials. .we are rationalists. .we are pragmatists. . . The concept of some transcendal truth is now totally extinguished!

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