Monday, November 14, 2011

Abinash C. Halder in Love

What she had asked was common to the core -
Trying to be civil, artifice of care.

But it tugged at my heart
And played on those chords
That fling my shutters unbarred.

But I who have stumbled on simplest of stuff
Recall my letters in trash.

So why should I risk
My image for a fall
And burn those robes that glitter.

So I measure my pros
And weigh in my cons
And bottle my words into safest of packs - 
Nuggets of proper and prim.

All that are left are sealed into self
Where they would flower and grow
And build from the ashes of questions unasked
Shrines beyond time and its roar.

17 comments:

turtlememoir said...

How beautifully written, this fear of taking the risk that could win all (or maybe only heaven), lose all (or what?)... I can identify.

So I measure my pros
And weigh in my cons
And bottle my words into safest of packs -
Nuggets of proper and prim.


Love the way words and rhythm are carefully measured out in this stanza, like a robotic recitation of actions so internalized they no longer require thought.

Susie Clevenger said...

Fear of risk...we have all felt it, but haven't stated it as eloquently as you...build from ashes of questions unasked...A lovely poem

nene said...

Well spoken, my man. i agree with turtlememoir of it's robotic nature yet unique in its subtle romanticism.

Jinksy said...

That third stanza is beautiful, but let's hope the self allows itself to bloom where others can see...

Laurie Kolp said...

I really like this:

So I measure my pros
And weigh in my cons
And bottle my words into safest of packs -
Nuggets of proper and prim.

Kay L. Davies said...

We cannot seize every moment, but sometimes there are moments worth seizing, and we cannot.
Beautifully done.

Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie’s Guide to Adventurous Travel

Robert said...

sometimes i wish had there been a meter for measuring feelings and attitudes. i was just thinking on these lines today and then this poem i saw, which makes me think what cud hav happened had she been able to sense the avalanche she caused insyd?

Abin Chakraborty said...

They would never know.There was this one poem I wrote long ago: Memoirs of My Missing Muses. They remain missing and thankfully so.The difficulty of expressing such emotions and the varied responses they could generate is better left unknown. As it is very few muses would tolerate the presence of more than one muse in any man's life.Why risk it ;)

nene said...

Well said on your response comment.

magicinthebackyard said...

"But I who have stumbled on simplest of stuff..."

This is a truly deep write, poignant and thought provoking. I love when a writer leaves me pondering myself. Thank you.

Laura Maria said...

That fifth verse was great! I love the way the words just rolled together.

Morning said...

stunning lines.
well done.

Happy Sunday.

Mary said...

Deep thoughts beautifully expressed! Thank you for taking the risk to share them.

Mary said...

Ah, letters in trash would be so hard to get beyond. Almost impossible. I always enjoy your depthful words, Abin. (Coming to your blog tonight through Imaginary Gardens.)

Janet said...

fear.... a universal plight. this is well done. enjoyed.

Robert said...

Haha.Indeed.Poets are so helpless with beauty strewn across the world, wherever and whenever.... Only if women knew how beautiful and irresistible they are(and other muses too are) :P

btw, how are u nowadays? hows life?

sayan said...

this is what happens when prince hamlet is asked to be an attendant lord...