The Past the sung but unclear
The knot so hard unbreakable
The notes lovely not at times
Still the Present does adore the steps!
Rung a thousand tunes afresh
The dawn anew and fragrant neo!
The count never ends my dear!
The spells alive loud and bold!
The Present does dribble into the Past-
No rather flow at times, cascade
Roll trickle or ooze. Pour surge
Rush gush, sweep self to the Doom!
Sweet the singing sweeter than ever!
O My Dear, carefree not I am!
The ambiguity is the curse, yet
There is the But the Rescuer!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (TBU by dr.k.g.balakrishnan kandangath )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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