In silent sobs,
and tearless cries,
gritting teeth
and frequent sighs..
Thus I sat,
lost in thought..
to hold onto one,
hard, I fought..
For a word at least,
I searched in vain;
The long lost toy-
me, the child again..
My heart I turned
Inside out..
My feelings all
I spread out..
Enough I got,
A valley to fill,
But words,
I found nil..!!
The poet in me,
as if dead;
a shell left out,
to move ahead.
Thus I sat,
Nearing insane..
I felt nothing,
No joy nor pain…
Baring one’s soul, so to speak, in public as poets are often wont to do (some more frequently than others),is intrinsic to the poetic art itself and thus the expressions of pain, regret, shattered hopes, etcetera is ever the hall mark of what it is to be a Poet.
This is absolutely nice:)loved it.
thank you Louis and Fathima for ur comments.