The Four Words Chiseled It. Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

The Four Words Chiseled It.



A red rose was handed to a poor hand.
The cruel thorns inscribed a sad cenotaph.
The forlorn gravestone savors its soliloquy.
Overgrown weeds wave with balmy touch.

The wilt rose sheds tears of old qualms.
The crispy petals prostrate to the mighty grave.
Now whispers read out holy psalms.
Neglect has decked up with lively wild grasses.

Saturday, March 15, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: sad love
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Suman Kumar Das 15 March 2014

I have only one word i.e. 'Superb'.................Each component of the flower is very beautifully painted........Liked it.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success