I DREAMT, THE BOOK..

I dreamt, the book..

I dreamt, a book..
torn and dusty..
a way written,
a way empty..
perhaps, was alive..
‘Words’ in it,  screams
but not as it seems..
they ask, they bleed..
they hurt, they cry..
but never they lie,
they are not just the words,
trapped in the wood..
not ’bout the crowd
or ’bout the lonelihood..
words from you,
and then ’bout..
those thirsty swollen eyes..
things were written,
imbrued with sobs,
scared, tired and bitten..
by each discrete names,
were carved faces..
embossed to their frames
tattered on other pages..
solemnly.. folded were,
few edges..
I’ve tried to unfold..
wondering who read it, before ?
but then no longer
could hold..
was awaken.. by the pair of
bleeding eyes..

GOD ! was that a dream,
why could I still hear the scream ?
who were those eyes ?
who has folded, those pages ?
why were, familiar..
those faces ?

 

perhaps..
I dreamt, the book !!!

Advertisements

23 thoughts on “I DREAMT, THE BOOK..

  1. Its a very beautiful poem n meaning is very deep. I think it came not from the mind but direct from the heart. All the best for future….hope we will get many more from the ink of your heart

  2. I am amazed at how great the stuff is on this site. I have saved this web page and I really plan on coming back to the site in the upcoming days. Great job keep up the excellent work!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s