Friday, October 5, 2012


Down it comes drizzling,
As the mercy of lord bestowed upon us.
Heavier it gets,
Purifies the tallest and the stiffest tree.
It descends down,
Accompanied with the mighty gale.
Shakes the toughest trunk,
 It renders flexibility.
Splitter-splatter, frills go high,
Crackly, noisy and a melody sometimes.
Hiding behind the doors,
I peep out and see no one out.
Willing to get drenched,
But a prisoner of my own soul.
Bounded in the boundaries,
Some drawn by them and some are truly mine.
The splashes don’t leave me untouched.
The droplets sprinkled on my face.
I wipe them out, they touch me once more.
A fever of freshness they inflict.
I dance merrily on my own tunes,
Breaking through the dilemmas.
But the predicament still persists.
The shower goes off, accomplishing its job,
Instilling fire in each heart.


The poem was given to me by my dearest friend Namrata.

You can visit her blog on
Image Courtesy

No comments:

Post a Comment