poem by: Durlabh Singh
Written on Apr 04, 2015


I fell asleep
In middle of the night
Or perhaps it was a day
Feigning of the darkness.

There was a beggar
At my tapped door
Begging for a silver spoon
Or perhaps for a pot of gold.

A limpid long life
Like flow of a river
Descending into the dust
Perhaps in harassed fever.

If I was asleep
Who was the other I?
Cajoling, decreeing
Perhaps a child with a dagger
Or a painted being in swagger. 

Days come and go
But the sun without a race
Soulful of its luminosity
In a jocund dark space.


Tags: metaphor, deep,

Add Comment

Christopher Russon commented on Sep 25, 2017 at 1:12pm
Nice poem written with depth.


More by Durlabh Singh


poem by Durlabh Singh

Go saddle me the black black steed For I am... Read more


poem by Durlabh Singh

Floating wings Glorious forms Destitute co... Read more