Negative solitude

. Ishrat Matoo

When the thick black cloud of pain 

Down the rugged peaks of heart 

Drove the doves of bliss away 

And the feeling of being abandoned

in the midst of tulips and daffodils

Felt like blue flame on the pink of the tongue

To drift along the rhythms of life

Became like sand gathering in hour-glass

yet a moment of stay at the constriction

Unveiled the spectre of the truth

Prior the sensation at the rib

Man wouldn’t know it ever

The aesthetics of negative solitude.


(You could send your poems and other literary pieces to In the subject column of the e-mail write: "Literary Dispatch")





+1 #1 Muzammil Karim 2013-12-28 05:17

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