Words have not deserted me,
But I fail to convince myself
That they matter.
I do not write anymore.
A fire burns in my heart,
Fueled by impotent rage.
Ghosts of reality dances
Across my shut eyelids,
Daring me to dream,
Mocking my helplessness.
Darkness of the night
Crushing lonely vigil of my heart,
Crumpled bed belies sleepless nights.
Those with a purpose,
Even if they have not seen the light,
Are they blessed with peaceful nights?
Those who profess moral high ground,
Invoking higher authority
But vilify the living daily at every turn
Shedding crocodile tears,
How easily they have made
Hypocrisy the norm!
Do I suffer in silence,
Or do I take up the pen?
Words have not deserted me,
But I am failing to convince myself
To write again.
Fleeting Muse 
Good to see you back today, Pranab. I saw that you left me a like on something. Thanks.
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Thank you. Got back from India last Sunday. Last seventy two hours or so, all news so depressing.
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Sorry for the sadness and depression. I know we are very different but I have hope for your future, and I care.
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Thank you.
Blogosphere is a wonderful tonic . Till we can agree to differ and still be civil to each other, we have hope.
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Please do continue to write
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Thank you so much.
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Love your poem’s beauty of truth and truth of beauty (I have written this sentence after poet John Keats’ ‘beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ from poem “Ode on a Grecian Urn”). Yours is a profoundly romantic piece, Pranab, beautifully written for its vibrant imagery, though obvioulsy different from Keats. I can read the narrator’s discomfort with the evil-doers of our current world in the following lines, so eloquently expressed:
“Those who profess moral high ground,
Invoking higher authority
But vilify the living daily at every turn
Shedding crocodile tears,
How easily they have made
Hypocrisy the norm!”
The closing verses express serious doubt within the poetic soul, yet there is hope as “words have not deserted me”. I think out of this state of weakness and vulnerability we are able to emerge again, reach the surface and keep ourselves afloat.
A butterfly displays its wings of hope, yet it has to avoid flying too high. Remember the Greek myth of the Icarus’ flight; the wings made by his father Daedalus melt with the sun and Icarus falls into the deepest ocean. I think this myth was in the back of my mind when I wrote my poem “Afloat”. I also had in mind a poem by Sylvia Plath, “Words”, where a white skull falls into the water and the poet contemplates life “from the bottom of the pool”. Unlike Icarus and Plath the subject of my poem gathers the necessary strength to move up and reach the surface of the water. In doing so, the temporary failure is taken as a life lesson trying to reach balance in life, swimming or flying again but not too high: https://momentsbloc.wordpress.com/2018/10/27/afloat-2/
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Wow, your kind, sweet words will lift anyone’s spirits. It certainly lifted mine. Many thanks. Will respond at length later.
Once you have touched the sky
You will soar
Even if your wings are clipped
The abyss is just temporary distraction
A mind that has seen the light
Does not need eyes to see
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Lovely! 🌈☀🌿🌹😍
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In Sanskrit we say ” “Satyam-Shivam-Sundram,” meaning “Truth-Godliness-Beauty.”.
Not sure if Keats was aware of this old saying. In Indian culture, this age old saying is a part of our upbringing.
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Love this Indian saying!
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There is even a Hindi movie with that title. More commercial than art film.
Link to the title song : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdU3qP5EYoY
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Nice!
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Reblogged this on D.B. Mauldin and commented:
Maybe soon…
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Thank you so much for reblogging.
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this is beautiful. sad. but beautiful.
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Thank you so much.
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