Autobiography Of A Letter Box
Sighs and tears of man I witness,
The annals of life I too share.
Voices of humanity I do clearly hear
To distant dales I always carry a dream.
Whispering tales of love I can narrate,
Whimpering tales of life I can describe.
Between the worlds of darkness and light,
I have read enough of life and script.
Near a temple in a solemn field,
I am perching in the native haunts.
Under the sprawling shades, in gentle winds,
I have seen seasons and beyond.
Umpteen hands have poured in their treasure,
To umpteen generations I was their heart and throb.
But, in the forging winds of e-mails
Footsteps continuously recede,
Only singular taps and voices remain.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Autobiography Of A Letter Box by Ravi Panamanna )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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