Treasure Island

Deepmala N Pant


Survival of sorrows


Dirty mud filled lanes
with stink all around
a broken street lamp
tilted a bit with corroded base

It’s drizzling hard
all wet, rain pouring in
not a corner left dry in the
dingy home of pole n polysheet..

The blue sheet is torn,
with patches all over
like tormented soul
unable to rescue this time around...

holding to the corner
a week skinny structure
resting thy head on the pole
looking outside from the cracks

Sky is grey and wet
pain is growing inside
a warm droplet rolls out
piercing thy calm

Uneven blade cutting inside
saw on wet wood
thy heart is bleeding
Silent cries from choked throat

The agony, the plight
hitting hard with every droplet
kissing thy skin,
wading through the memory lane
probing and pricking each scar
Nothing has survived
Just survival of sorrows...

Submitted: Friday, May 24, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 09, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

When we are sad, rain makes us bleed even more profusely

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