Friday, 5 June 2020

The day I was born


Long nights and days sped by
To yearn and earn and count and die,
In loving spree and dreams and cry,
In heaps of petals fallen and dry.

Swirling serpents—smoky dread
Invading sky to paint and spread,
Erasing signs of innocent myths—
Cradled so long in cerebral piths.

Promises faded, one by one,
Nothing was lost and none has won;
Reaped not harvest, seeds not sown,
The last wish awaits the last ribbon.

Moments flee, pages burn,
And ashes fill the memories’ urn;
Yet the sojourn shines in glee
When life recounts its first turn.

(A repost)



8 comments:

  1. really good Saibal .... shouldn't it be 'its' in the very last line..

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes, Sidharth....Thanks for your appreciation

    ReplyDelete
  3. "Nothing was lost and none has won;
    Reaped not harvest, seeds not sown,
    The last wish awaits the last ribbon."

    Loved these lines sir.... As long as the sojourn shines in glee there is still virtue in the life's spree 😊

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Nice to hear that you liked it...thanks, madam

      Delete
  4. ..ashes fill the memories' urn..
    I loved it .. beautiful !!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Swirling serpents—smoky dread
    Invading sky to paint and spread,
    Lovely. . . You Have a Nice and Beautiful Day. . . :)

    ReplyDelete

Emon dine taare bola jay (āĻāĻŽāĻ¨ āĻĻিāĻ¨ে āĻ¤াāĻ°ে āĻŦāĻ˛া āĻ¯াā§Ÿ)

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