Monday, March 5, 2012

Abinash C. Halder's Sunday Picnic

Laughter and song now spill into the air;
Crowds full of pre-scheduled joy.

Hung within network of brown barren branch
I flutter as a kite without flight.

Welled and walled by preoccupying thoughts,
I still do my time, as solitary in cells
And scribble my dislocated verbs.

Lost in the illusion of unfounded fame,
I shuttle between isolated hubris of self
And promise for a collective of hope.

15 comments:

booguloo said...

It seems that the kite string has you tied between hubris and hope.

Heaven said...

I really like the last lines:

I shuttle between isolated hubris of self
And promise for a collective of hope.

I hope you are having a good day :-)

Laura Maria said...

The second to last verse evokes so much emotion! Great poem.

Fireblossom said...

Got to love "pre-scheduled joy"!

Mary Mansfield said...

That second stanza is the one that really gets me. I know many who can relate to fluttering in place. Really enjoyed this.

Mary said...

Abin, well penned. I especially liked the wonderful metaphor in the second stanza and the concluding two lines!

On another note, do you think you could remove word verification? You already have comment moderation, and with word verifcation it is often torture to comment.

Old Ollie said...

what a philosophical picnic sir

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I especially love "kite without flight" and the closing lines. Great write, Abin.

Susie Clevenger said...

I feel the melancholy in this one...

Kay L. Davies said...

I laughed at "pre-scheduled joy" and mourned with the stranded kite.
K

Mama Zen said...

That's really sad!

Kerry O'Connor said...

Now I find the notion of pre-scheduled joy most intriguing - like we can cue our responses to the world.

Laurie Kolp said...

Although sad, I like dislocated verbs...

Matthew John Davies said...

I'm truly a big fan.

Mystic_Mom said...

This is just - yeah. Wonderful.