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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Saturday, 13 June 2015

Food for thought

The pine needles whistle,
gently blown by dancing wind
within a deeming day...
Where in a moment of peace,
I lay sunken over stool-
with my hands clasped,
right before my nose-
gently as if in prayer.
I'm Cluttered in thought,
driven by my discordant mindset.
Which knows only one route-
out of unpaved happenings;

I think of tomorrow,
even 'fore the sun bids farewell,
to share glorious day
with people uncertain
of what will happen today.
of what their eyes
will cast sight to
in the ambience of dawn,
after being handed keys-
through awakening.

In our sleep we dream,
while awake they say we should,
Ayeh if we spend our time-
dreaming and day dreaming
when will we learn living?
Yet day and night dreams-
are foundations to castles
built in glittering sand. .

It's brick by brick isn't it?
So it's action not thought.

Otherwise jamming the brain-
like a parking lot,
will only make you wonder-
If the lot of thoughts,
will feed the slot to your throat...

In a nut shell,
boats of thoughts,
carrying buts and maybes,
sailing afloat our minds,
yield no fish on unused hooks...

The light blinding my eyes,
faded further into the evening,
blooming a beautiful orange hue...
Brick by brick,
I walked away from the park,
not as a victor, but as a seeker,
who sought food rather than thought of it.

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