POEM: NISHA THAYIL
LONGING FOR LOVE
by
Nisha Thayil
Feeling such grief
Felling such despair
This is how it feels when I can't find my love out there.
I am stuck in a dark hole
Locked up with anguish in my heart
But some how I can't break free
Because the anger of feeling alone will never leave me.
Without the expression of love
I am blind, depriving me of light
But hope lingers on and I see flicker
Of love beyond my grasp.
I am tormented, I am silenced
When I look into a mirror, I see all the troubles and sorrows
My reflection prevents me from going to the right direction
Taking my desired love and affection.
It feels as though each time I touch love
It's like a rose petal that falls off to the ground
As I give my heart away
I am left with nothing
Just some disdain, some high sighs
Forbidding me from keeping my head up high.
As I prick my finger on the thorns of the rose
Blood starts to pour leaving my heart to become sore
As I look above, I see this beautiful white dove
It is so pure, innocent and so clear
Flying just like me, to find that special love.
(Thanks to Nisha Thayil for this touching and outstanding poem, a touch
of Elizabeth Browning's works). New World
LONGING FOR LOVE
by
Nisha Thayil
Feeling such grief
Felling such despair
This is how it feels when I can't find my love out there.
I am stuck in a dark hole
Locked up with anguish in my heart
But some how I can't break free
Because the anger of feeling alone will never leave me.
Without the expression of love
I am blind, depriving me of light
But hope lingers on and I see flicker
Of love beyond my grasp.
I am tormented, I am silenced
When I look into a mirror, I see all the troubles and sorrows
My reflection prevents me from going to the right direction
Taking my desired love and affection.
It feels as though each time I touch love
It's like a rose petal that falls off to the ground
As I give my heart away
I am left with nothing
Just some disdain, some high sighs
Forbidding me from keeping my head up high.
As I prick my finger on the thorns of the rose
Blood starts to pour leaving my heart to become sore
As I look above, I see this beautiful white dove
It is so pure, innocent and so clear
Flying just like me, to find that special love.
(Thanks to Nisha Thayil for this touching and outstanding poem, a touch
of Elizabeth Browning's works). New World
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