Friday, June 06, 2008


I cannot breathe the odor of din.
Here I am bereft of wit,
Hungry for soliloquy.
I crouch in the comfort
Of a seemly mirage.
How it flits,turns and spins;
Till I seek solace
And remain still
Until all is forgotten.
Oh solitude,oh solitude
I recall nothing else.

P.S.-I wonder if post rock is sometimes effective in alienating a poetess from her poetic license.

1 comment:

Meander.....!!!! said...

i must say its quite impressive