The Covidiot Managers
3 years ago
A Broken Promise
This was a poem which I wrote not long ago for a friend of mine. I recently happened to know that she is reading this particular blog. The poem is extremely mushy but then again I like it that way.
Also I guess there is no point in putting the poem on this blog without explaining the context in which I wrote it. If I remember correctly, it all started a with a poem. Now this particularly wonderful girl gave me one of her poems to read and read I did. I got her to promise me, to phone that night and explain the poem, which she did not. Now remember this was a time I was still gripping over my ISC creative muse and expecting everyone to write poems with double edged meanings. Now a days I think poems are more like a work of art than an editorial in the newspaper. Just like a painting it is suppose to mean different things for different people. (What I meant is, I don't take critical reviews for my poems....it is just not the reason why I write it). Any ways this is a poem which I gave her back the next day...mushy !!!?
Also I guess there is no point in putting the poem on this blog without explaining the context in which I wrote it. If I remember correctly, it all started a with a poem. Now this particularly wonderful girl gave me one of her poems to read and read I did. I got her to promise me, to phone that night and explain the poem, which she did not. Now remember this was a time I was still gripping over my ISC creative muse and expecting everyone to write poems with double edged meanings. Now a days I think poems are more like a work of art than an editorial in the newspaper. Just like a painting it is suppose to mean different things for different people. (What I meant is, I don't take critical reviews for my poems....it is just not the reason why I write it). Any ways this is a poem which I gave her back the next day...mushy !!!?
A Broken Promise
(27/2/2007)
An endless wait on a warm cozy bed,
a scary night but my hopes aren't dead
cold few hours from a much waited sunrise
but vexed am I with a petty broken promise.
Far had I traveled for the ultimate truth
deciphering thy mind in each treaded path
the bounty of success - a well deserved prize
for the danger in the road like a dead sick promise.
The glorious evidence was lying in my front
its untampered clues flying in my mind
a logical Sherlock, in search of an answer
but for my guesses, I felt a growing cancer.
This day, when the poems ends its round
an overdone mockery from my part, O friend
there is nothing to forgive, for I am not furious
but a cat I remain, chased by Mr. Curious.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
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