Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Haunted Hours

I tried my best to scrub her out
From all the lanes of vaulted heart;
But who knows how the faded days
Come back through the mists of time
And with flashes of my past
Drown and flood my lonely trail
In those lanes that call me still
Through the secret wisps of night,
And light up darkened halls of soul –
Montage of my fractured frames.

I pounce upon the remnants all
And flush and burn them as I can,
Though the ashes flowing through
All the streams of laden heart
Merge and mix and churn in soul –
A darkened blot that will not go
But gnawing through my foolish heart
Leave me always maddened by
Restless ghosts that will not sleep,
Jangling iron-chains in dream
That makes me daily sweat and scream.


Sui Generis said...

Wow!wow! wow indeed...i mean it!
i had never read such an emotional poem of yours before.Very well expressed,concrete sentiments yet they melt the reader's heart.the last few lines reminded me of the 1st ghost in Dickens' Christmas Carol

Robert said...

a little puzzling. who are you trying to scrub out? the one the next poem is for? yet your heart is writhing with pain (due to unexpressed love??)