The Wailing Harp Poem by M D Dinesh Nair
The Wailing Harp
My small thoughts
May be halted at your lips
Which chant lies in silence
But I cannot restart a voyage into the seas
Of your manipulations, I am sorry.
Don`t ask me to find
A meaning for a life detained.
In the cave of dark enclosures
Myths are myths for me
And I am exiled from your fantasy land.
When your entwined life has chosen
To be in consolation of past tales
You talk about a life of fulness
But I say it aloud -
We are just alive kicking and reveling.
A shadow imitates the God
Of your sketches and colours
It may next even meditate under
An unyielding tree with yellow leaves
That grow hoping to touch the sky!
The fugitive in me
Will not and cannot go to that still
For I may find it embarrassing
To lose the present hold
-The hold of some grip indeed.
My hands discern the lichen
Engraving itself on
The moisture of insanity
But they are feeble and worn out
Yours are long and muscular, I admit.
The vastness of loneliness may be painful
But I know its coherence and ambiance
The rhythm of life was a note just attempted
And my harp now may wail to no end
But it will be what I like -that says it all.
searching the secrecy of life in the darkness is a different thing. Relationship with the god is not specified but the poem is beautiful and recited.
Beautiful poem. Very true said, we cannot search meaning of life remaining in darkness. Many connect their present to past, so They are unable to come out of swirl of darkness especially if they had a painful past. We must forget the past and live in present. Poem with Indepth meaning...loved reading each lines..
Let harp of the heart play some music filling the surrounding space with joy. People around try to manipulate but one must tackle this with patience. Nice flowing poem. Thank you.
A sweet wail vs the guffaws of imprudent cheers and so let this harp be in its true entity, Madam Valsa..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 12:48:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
As long as the protagonist of this poem prefers to dwell in a cave with dark enclosures, who can save him from there? Nevertheless he doesn't desire to be out... He prefers the self willed exile. His harp can be tuned in such a way that melodies of joy could pour forth from it, instead of wails. A great write!