Depressing poem no.1

It’s strange how oppressive
Even open spaces can be
How the walls can close in,
With never a wall to see

Every step I take in the cold night air
Feels like a push against solid rock
Everywhere I turn, every nook I seek,
Tells the same story and seems to mock.

Every strain of music seeps into a mind
That listens without yearning,
The surge and fall in the most haunting tune,
Unheard in a numbness deafening.

Every joy muted, every tint faded,
A dismal fog colors it all,
Through sprightly spring and crisp summer,
My eyes see a melancholic fall.

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2 responses to this post.

  1. what’s with the melancholy? Not quite enough “feeling” (saa CR wud say) behind it just yet… but getting there 🙂 or should it be 😦 ??

    Reply

    • Posted by vasudasuresh on June 29, 2010 at 4:46 pm

      if i was feeling any more melancholic, i’d be too sad to write a poem about it 🙂 and writing drives my blues away, so maybe thats why the ‘feeling’ is lacking 😉

      Reply

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