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Abhimanyu Raman

Arrows of Word: Projectiles In Time

My arrows travel deep into the night,
piercing frescoes of thought at dawn
Travel further, they shall, these shattered shards,
to intone lethargic delirium at midday
Now slow down as eventide comes to claim
spent worth of carrion's goods
from my weary eyes, the bow

Still the journey be far from over

Move on
Into the abysses of needless dissection
of day's measure spread, into happenings too wide to be read
But will prove legible in days to come

And with that,
its cycle completed
Arrow returns from target to bow
Only to be spent again,
to tread the time line of another day.

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An Elegy To A Perfect Mother

Sleep well, oh! Mother,
Thou hast won thyself, a ghastly prison
Even as life blooms all around thee,
As the good earth nourishes, all that is hers
With the remnants, of thy well lived corsage
Thou sleepest unconscious,
to this bliss of new life

The pain yet remains
in my heart, dear mother!
For i am still alive,
wilst thou, sadly, are dead
Survivor's guilt, I do so dread
Yet gladly suffer its pangs, I will
For I know, thou hast risen,
to a better life, a better station
Yet why is this pain so unbearable, dear mother?
Tell me why.....

I weep for you mother, you know I do

[...] Read more

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