Tags
ask, beg, blessing, comb, curse, demand, fiction, hair, Need, night, poetry, prose, request, rinse, stars, verse, want, wash
There was a time you wrote verses with me.
Then you ditched poetry for some staid prose, stale.
You shall expect me when you shall marry her.
You shall want me when you will want to sing her the stars
while combing the night through her hair.
You shall need me when she shall try to give you a daughter.
I promise you, You shall then cry for me to wash off the curse,
each time, last time.
And you shall ask for me with closed eyes, for a rinse.
This, I bestow upon you.
P.S. ~ The Verse. The Curse? The Words. Blessed Words of The Night.
booguloo said:
The poem and the poster compliment one another. I’ve felt this type of sadness before and your poem circled the wagons.
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Purvi said:
You got it absolutely! Thank you!!
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Janaki Nagaraj said:
Sadness and pain of rejection resulting in curse…..brought out very well.
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Purvi said:
Thanks a lot Janaki ji !
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kalpana said:
very deeply touched…….
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Purvi said:
Thank you for feeling connected my dear 🙂
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ladywhispers said:
So sad and yet so something I can so relate…loved it 🙂
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