Treasure Island

Vishal Sharma

(10th july 1996/Samastipur (Bihar) / India)

Pain


Today,
I am alone
Beneath the sky
There is no one
Here,
To whom
I can say
Mine
Today,
I am missing
Whom
Who, too, will be
Missing me
Now
I just want to
Listen to her
Voice
But I have no
Choice
She has forbade
Me
To do so
I am weeping
Inside
Want to she her
Not possible
Now,
I am missing
Her
Today,
I feel
What love is
Today,
I realize
How much i
Love her
Today,
I can say
Only one girl
I love
Even more than
My life
Each second
Lingers a year
Craving for her
Face
May she too will
Be remembering me
Now,
I just pray to god
I want to hear her
Now
I want to hear her
Voice
But alas! I have no
Choice
Why such saperation
I can with stand
I am dying
To hear her
But couldn't do
Anything
She is far away
From me.
Far away very
Far
I can't do anything
To see hear
Mearely go on weeping
And shedding tears
I imagine
How one can miss
Someone so madly
But I am an ox example
Today
I have felt
What heart contains
What eyes have
To see the beloved
They are fighting with me
I am just going on
Consolidating
Then now and there
O! my beloved
Please say
You too are feeling
The same
You too are burning
In the same flame
Speak to me
Talk to me
Lingering;
Longing;
Craving;
I am
Where are you
Can't you feel
My tars
Where have you
Gone?
Come to me soon
Come! And me mine
I can' wait now
Darling!
Are you getting!
What I am saying?
Speak to me you
Why are you silent?
I am waiting for
Your single word
That escapes your
Lips
My life! Why are
You taking me?
You are my soul
Apart from me
I think
You too feel the
Same
But you are not
Answering
As of same problems
But whenever you
Get a chance
Give your moblie
A glance
And call me than
As I am waiting always.

Submitted: Sunday, June 30, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 25, 2013

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  • Shahzia Batool (6/30/2013 1:48:00 AM)

    EPIC! ! !
    - - - - - - -
    We are living in an era of transitions and transformation, a kind of a complete metamorphosis of our being if we take the roots into consideration...the concept of tragedy was grand when it was the thing of kings and princes, now the tragedy is the matter of a common man, similarly, Epic with the greeks and romans was a mighty poem with mighty language and style and characters, now if everyman is an odysseus, common life has become an Odyssey, these lil happenings as you expressed and described are rendering your life as your personal epic...can we call it a transformation of the tradition? or a mere anti-climactic freak of pen? anyways it's a good effort! ! ! (Report) Reply

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