PREMONITION PRESENT
*************************
Another cold
winter has pressed
her cruel lips
on ours...
there is no
more love my friend,
no time
to write of love...
The maddening
conclusions of the
twisted algebra of fate,
begin to show
on the canvas of truth...
our truths...
Love is no more...
only war...
Anirban Kapil Baishya(4/1/2009)
1 comment:
Deep . Very deep indeed. Comes slowly at you. Like a finger penetrating the deep snow. The momentary shock n thrill that runs through your body and excites you and then the cold slowly overpowers your senses. This is what this poem did to me. I don't know the context you wrote it in , but I love your language.
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