Into Silent Groves

Debacles of Destiny, ah … so many, so many
Lay before me.

… As I lay basking in the mornlight
Bathed lawn:
Crude, the lassitude of early born
Poignant dawn,
Lost in an ocean smeared with bright
Viscous clouds –
Oft in quietitude, thoughts the mind lone,
Ghastly shrouds.

The silent Groves waking, like mind mine in lethargy,
Not silently …

Crippling thoughts with lances
Crowd; on horsebacks they stand.
Shouts they, my ruined End,
Loudly … loudly –

Wind in the Groves waking; Oft then isn’t oft
But terrible.

… When sprouts to stay again in
Me, from somewhere less behind,
Like some playthings that unwind –
With loud drums and dreary din …
The wind’s worst remnants I find.
When comes to the half-slept mind,
Back, oft, dark dark reveries –
Rival Life’s young victories.

It is as though I’m the
Past written beforehand.
Read so easily –

– Was that when drunken dreams to the light
Were drained?
Where – how deep servitude of absence
Leads me unto –
Dreams those that on strained eyes of night
Haven’t rained.
What odd things, Solitude-the-Shrewd Mess
Turns me into –

Tentacles of Destiny, that … oh wind me, oh blind me
End, is it Me?

Posted by Akhil


TJ said...

It is as though I’m the
Past written beforehand.
Wow that was so powerful..the words take you on a journey.

Bedazzzled1 said...

I am going with TJ on this one. Very powerful words you have written here. Beautiful.

Red said...

Another beautiful job. Powerful and moving.

Tammy said...

Nicely done! What a great picture for poetry :)