Pencil shavings and Coffee stains

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27/10/2015 by Siddiqui Fayesal

Coffee stains on the
Table,
Pencil shavings laid
Untouched.

The ruffling of the paper
Gone quiet,
And the thought in its
Path somewhere stuck.

The pen that freely
Flowed,
Now lay unused in
The company

Of the dormant stretch
Of line
That cleaved the
Paper on its journey.

Poets come and poets
Go,
But the soul of their poetry
Dies not.

Once the hand that wrote
These rhymes,
Now dangles useless for
Want of a thought.

Those letters that
Once bled with life,
Now lays dry in their
Grief.

The poetry lays stifled in their
Rawest form,
Unable to leave,
Unable to breath.

Rhymes don’t meet with
Their meaning,
Nor does the stories
Agree with their masters.

Prose and Poetry make a
Macabre mix,
While the puppet rebel
Against their makers.

The pain of the prose that can
Never be borne,
The melody of the poetry that’ll
Never sway,

The sigh of the poets,
That once were gone,
Now returns as
They walk away.

Siddiqui F.
(22.10.2014)

NB:

  1. Paragraphs 1 to 7 along with paragraph 9 were written on 22.10.2014 in CCD at Agripada.
  2. Paragraph 8 and 10 was written at Petit on 30.04.2015.
  3. Paragraph 11 and 12 were written at Petit on 01.05.2015.

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