RR
25th October 2006, 03:31 PM
Window of my heart
- isaimaNi
Talk to me, window of my heart,
Tear down the curtain across my view,
To let the sunshine flow through,
My veins to warm up the ailing me
I see the dwelling I grew up,
Thatched and dry palm leaves ,
With red scorpion hiding,
To take shelter from scorching sun.
Village roads with weary kids,
Lined up to run for waterice,
Half clad with broken patch,
With hands in pocket holes.
My heart hears their cries at night,
Lit by the glare of the moon light,
Enter through torn curtain rods,
Rusted with my tiny thoughts.
The old man with the bony cow,
Milks to fill the pot of hope,
To feed the hungry babe, I see,
Yonder in the empty fields.
The autumn leaves fight the wind,
To hold on to their branches,
Though wither away with their laughter,
Leaving a thick blanket of sorrow!
Not the fault of my window,
It is dark at night by day,
Bright at day by night,
Paradox as my mood swings.
Why is my window weary to hold,
My spirit at rest in total surrender,
Breaks to smithereens when questioned,
Ashamed to show its barbed face?
Shadow following the contour of ego,
I slip and fall to smash my face,
While some one laughs to ridicule,
That I deserved what I asked for.
My window with that open hole
Rainbow of my thought process,
Searches in the wilderness of despair,
To embrace moments of my memory.
The rain drops on the window panes,
Washes off my blemishes to light
The gloomy path of my life,
To make way for a new start to finish!
- isaimaNi
Talk to me, window of my heart,
Tear down the curtain across my view,
To let the sunshine flow through,
My veins to warm up the ailing me
I see the dwelling I grew up,
Thatched and dry palm leaves ,
With red scorpion hiding,
To take shelter from scorching sun.
Village roads with weary kids,
Lined up to run for waterice,
Half clad with broken patch,
With hands in pocket holes.
My heart hears their cries at night,
Lit by the glare of the moon light,
Enter through torn curtain rods,
Rusted with my tiny thoughts.
The old man with the bony cow,
Milks to fill the pot of hope,
To feed the hungry babe, I see,
Yonder in the empty fields.
The autumn leaves fight the wind,
To hold on to their branches,
Though wither away with their laughter,
Leaving a thick blanket of sorrow!
Not the fault of my window,
It is dark at night by day,
Bright at day by night,
Paradox as my mood swings.
Why is my window weary to hold,
My spirit at rest in total surrender,
Breaks to smithereens when questioned,
Ashamed to show its barbed face?
Shadow following the contour of ego,
I slip and fall to smash my face,
While some one laughs to ridicule,
That I deserved what I asked for.
My window with that open hole
Rainbow of my thought process,
Searches in the wilderness of despair,
To embrace moments of my memory.
The rain drops on the window panes,
Washes off my blemishes to light
The gloomy path of my life,
To make way for a new start to finish!