I slept dreamless
on a Sunday noon.
Marooned
on an isle of lifelessness,
spurned by the mattress,
night after night,
battling slumber’s flight,
it came as a boon.
Life sits heavily
on the chest;
The incest
with the inhaler brings no rest.
The blue pill is not a friend
to questions
un-paused by a day’s end,
The vial has no gel
for the grim answers
explored in dark tunnels.
The sun throws open
the tedium of life’s business.
The borrowed haze
of night’s crevices
thickens and turns cold.
Indeed, I grow old.
One Grain Amongst the Storm 
Beautifully written and a strong message about a person’s discomfort(my view).
Thanks for sensing the discomfort.
Nice one!!! Now waiting for Suranga Date’s reply….
What a Tuesday morning request ! Giribala, have a look ! :-))
You know what, my poems are a ruse to set the poetic engine of Suranga on fire!
I hear you, I hear you :-)) , but right now the monkeys are winning …..
http://kavitalihi.blogspot.in/2012/03/election-promises.html
:-)))
indeed, we grow old.
And then we do!
Very interesting imagery. Is your blue pill the Matrix-wala blue or the diamond-shaped one? 🙂 Loved the poem.
Hey, mine was Matrix Blue. You seem to have fallen for the other one though: Just fished you out of the Spam tank.
Wonderful, really nice…
Really thankful.
🙂 just one way way to get old!
And the way I have fallen upon.
I think most of us feel what you wrote in the first paragraph. Loved these lines:
“The borrowed haze
of night’s crevices
thickens and turns cold.
Indeed, I grow old.”
Wish I could write like this…:)
You write beautiful words. Why care for a listless mind?
Sunk in a stupor
post
agitated imbibing of
sweet somethings,
deep on a Sunday afternoon,
eyelids
trying and
barely succeeding at
rapid eye movement,
ears trying to debit noise,
as he floats
in low energy states
credited with alacrity
to advancing Suns and Moons.
Pharmacoepia admits defeat,
as
a young blue
miles away
whacks a white with wood,
up into the sky,
as a portly man in red ,
hands raised
invokes the Lord.
Suddenly
the weight
is off the chest,
inhalers exhale,
blue pills shrivel in shame,
the tunnel explodes into
a shower of light,
there are new and smart answers
to grim questions.
Step on the vial
crush it to smithereens,
glare at the Sun,
smirk at the blue pill.
Its time
to get up and run.
Getting old
is not an option 🙂
Lovely!! 🙂
I wonder if I will ever be able to repay your debt for illuminating this desolate corner.
Taking Inspiration from the recent UP elections and Monsieur M. S. Yadav et Fil debt upto 100 poems has been instantly written off , and electricity is now free till next elections….:-) Rejoice !
Follow the advise of Suranga as getting old is not an option , Umashankar:)
Ay, I’ll follow the fairy of magical words.
journey of life 😉
True, but I am seasick.
Wait for the dawn,
tables will turn,
you’ll have yourself,
your youth as whole.
Yup. Waiting for Godot.
very strong n intense expressions..
each verse speaks volumes..
with the inhaler brings no rest.
The blue pill is not a friend
to questions
un-paused by a day’s end,..
beautifully described the helplessness !!
Murmurs of a worked up mind.
life resembles one big compromise, KEEP ON WRITING,KEEP ON SHINING,KEEP ON SMILING….and dont ever lose that light in ur eyes…… u knw ur words ha ha ha….
I am a fan of both Leann Rimes and yours. Thanks Neloo.
Such a rich metaphorical poem, Umashankar. I found myself kind of re-living it when I stayed back home from work today due to a bronchial attack. Sunday noon could well have been Tuesday noon. 🙂
Beware of the dark tunnels! Take care!
Was it life that sat on the chest or was broncho-spasm? Whatever be it, it’s a beautiful poem.
When life is a sum total of your afflictions, how does it matter which one it is: a bronchio or a cardio?
I’m on your blog the first time! This was so beautiful! I just knew there was something amiss and read between the lines..you weren’t too happy when you wrote this? But it is said so beautifully! Really 🙂
That’s right, Jen. You have to honey-quote your sadness before it is palatable to others.
Hmm..sounds too rich — in words, in imagery and in execution. Honey-coated indeed for popular consumption.
That’s is the only way to quote your heart!
A new day will dawn after the night & you will be energized once more….such is life-up & down;hot & cold.
Am i trying to compete with you ?Not possible!!!!
Friends bring solace, not competition. I am just a pebble at the base of mountains.
Beautifully written. Last para was loaded with superb imagery .
Many thanks, for the honour, Sir!
Trying to post comment as zephyr
That was just great 🙂 And i like that cute pic as well !!
hmmm, life is pain 😦
Life itself is not a pain. Its just those painful bends on the road one has to go through.
That is beautiful. I discovered your blog only today, and now am reading old posts. Will take a few days to read all the things I want to read, I guess. Thank you, I am enjoying your writing.
Welcome, my friend! I hope I don’t disappoint you. You are like a prayer answered!