Thursday, 28 July 2011

Sieve - Faruque Ghanchi બાબુલ

Scrubbed fingers
stained with latex odour
constantly paint iodised letters
on etherised vapour
A beautiful portrait sleeps
on a flood lit canvas
-as worn out as  the eternal wait- weeps
yet crisp as the first prayer of the mass.
And somewhere there would be
a slender hidden hope
for those who dare to see:
how, indeed the tender hearts cope!
Vain attempt to stop the red torrents
haunts, taunts... laments, torments:

Then, that distant sound of faint bleeps
..all that sieved memory keeps.

Faruque Ghanchi  બાબુલ 


1 comment:

  1. Again went though this poem. It emerges with a new feel.

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