Monday, March 9, 2009

Extinct Soul

There is a one way street on a little left of the uphill
Where the clouds bring no rain
There is a ragged man who walks through the life's standstill
On this street time and again

Dying orchids witness a late autumn from the sky
Decaying leaves of imagination remains

There is a miracle that awaits in the forlorn corners of rust
For a mother watching her child in dismay
Looking on the lower window covered by a leap of dust
The humble sunset conclude another day

Fading by the moment the walls of wish chatters
Inside a castle of the ragged man's dream
Shinning on contempt the pieces of hope scatters
Through a conviction of futile redeem

There is a deserted coffee shop swirling a pale invitation
To a chromatic world of lost harmony
Ascending by the hourglass a touch of tale creation
On a note of broken symphony

Chasing the feeble thoughts the twisted rigs unfurls
Into a casket of silenced mind
A grim coldness in heart and sublime beauty of young girls
Scripting an art for the blind

Beneath the perils, the shadow of the child keeps moving
Asking the ragged man's ambition
Casting a stalemate , the emptiness keeps improving
My life undergoes the final transition

11 comments:

Priya said...

I am genuinely surprised at the lack of comments on this.It is one of the best original poems I have read in the last few years.Keep writing!

Ragpicker said...

I sincerely appreciate your patient reading and kind comment. Well the truth is I have a whole pile of poems on my hard rive and just had this weird thought a few day back to place some of them online.

Ragpicker said...

Thank You again :)

Isha said...

nice poem...good read...keep writing :)

Ragpicker said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ragpicker said...

thanks isha for your kind feedback ! :)

nan said...

Guess you would ve come across this Buddhist philo Rag
"form is emptiness; emptiness is form"
All sorts emptiness in the world have gained the form of your poems.
Your writes travel an unfathomable distance into one's conscience and when we are out of it an abrupt awareness stark emptiness all around makes us feel sick.
An empty applause ;)

Ragpicker said...

You know nan sometimes you scare me out and my high gets a little more elevated by reading your comments. Yes you are right about the Buddhist philo but I try to keep my poems less influenced by any religious philosophical foundations. As a part of my hobby I'm studying mysticism and gnosticism which both deals with counter-enlightened ideologies.

Personally I feel there is something more to the emptiness , something that cannot be understood just by traveling to unknown places inside our minds.

Ragpicker said...

Thanks for sharing your thoughts nan

Satans Darling™ said...

I am very thankful to you to have come up with the thought of sharing your work online with us :P Hope the ragged man connects with the little child soon!

Another great one...!

Ragpicker said...

Ashrita : The ragged man and the child are the same soul. They are the same. Just on a parallel plane on two different sides of the universe. :)

There is a ragged man who walks through the life's standstill <---- Heres the mother looking at her child -->
On this street time and again

For a mother watching her child<-- heres the ragged man's ghost walking--> in dismay

Mother is the mother nature . This is related here : "Dying orchids witness a late autumn from the sky"

I hope now it further deepens the whole root of this poem and new meanings can be depicted altogether. :D

he he I know I cause a lot of brainfucks!!! :P