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sometimes it is
like a creaky door
heavy and morose
things inside
sound like a carpenter’s workshop
i wait with a
blank face, silently
and that is when i
want to grow into a forest;
all leaves, trees,
barks, pebbles and rich soil,
rough textures
and raw smells;
that’s when i
realize,
the root of life
is far;
cities have
overgrown
and i am slowly
diminishing
into mechanical sounds…
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What a metaphor... I can feel that creepy door
ReplyDeletei am slowly diminishing
ReplyDeleteinto mechanical sounds….. wonderfully written.
wonderful!
ReplyDeleteI think this is a most extraordinary poem, which speaks of a common sense of alienation. This is brilliantly encapsulated in your imagery. Very well done.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully haunting!❤️
ReplyDeleteWow! Beep beep!
ReplyDeleteExcellently composed. Crafts one into a reflection of things.
ReplyDeleteThank you all dear poets ! Appreciation is the fuel for writing more....
ReplyDelete