Friday, January 21, 2011

Of His Own

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He knows not how to win
nor to break hearts asunder,
all he does is speak his mind
leaving the devil to wonder…

He gets alone wherever he is
and secretly cries his eyes out,
while enjoying the noise of a distant smile
calm as a cold and cold as a clam…

He is not what folks think
as they aren't worth the trouble,
has no reason to do otherwise
for he tells no truth, he tells no lies…

He rises under the sun
and sweats in the noon,
kisses the sweet breeze
and sleeps with the moon…

He's well aware of death
as well as the mysteries breathing beholds,
yet he wants to try his best
to keep his chin up when he falls dead…

11 comments:

Jayshree said...
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Shakti_Shetty said...

You can stop laughing now. I'm a proud member of the Dead Poets' Society. :D

Jayshree said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Shakti_Shetty said...

Oops! :))

Crape diem it is! :P

Jayshree said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
AS said...

hey!!!

wah! I loved ur poem :D

keep writing!

Shakti_Shetty said...

Thanks Adi! :)

Anonymous said...

i liked this !

PS : can you please put a blogger feed on your page so i can subscribe to your blog by email .. its difficult to track blogspot pages otherwise

Shakti_Shetty said...

Thanks Nimue!

But to be frank, i've got no idea how to do it.. but i'll figure it out ASAP and let it know. :)

Anonymous said...

Nice! Liked your poem

Shakti_Shetty said...

:)