Tag Archives: Poem

Oarsman in the Lake

Soft were the splashes,

Oars dipped in darkness

Out came the wood dripping

From the lake called sorrow.

Lonely the oarsman rowed,

Into nowhere. Now that

future has become unknowm

Life has become threadbare.

Tattered were his clothes,

better off than his heart they were,

battered were his bones,

incomparable to the pain unknown.

Dusk turned to midnight,

night which may ne’er end.

Happyness turned to sorrw

swift were the twists of fate.

Now he has stopped rowing,

tired were his arms and legs

hope the sharks show him mercy

because flowers never did


Bunny in the burrow

Hee haw said the bunny,

Not unlike a donkey I knew;

But so sure was the bunny,

That this was nothing anew.

Yest I was a tiger,

A moose the day before,

Might become a snake tomorrow,

Today Im donkey ‘Denue’


Denue loved his burrow,

or is it a stable today?

Ate many carts of carrots

however only sugarcubes for him today.


He wandered off hee hawing,

screaming down the street.

Out came a blind donkey

And crushed him with his feet!

In the Cold

In the cold


Missed the signs, cockey sure,

Now naked in the cold,

Want to get back into the warm bed

From which I was thrown.


Took the warmth for granted long,

Forgot to tend to the fire,

Now its gone, for how long?

Please not forever!


In the cold I finally knew,

How warm it was before,

Should have worked harder for the wood,

Now all I see is snow.


Dark outside, darker inside,

Red does the blood still flow?

Sure its bland, like the colour of land,

Will it ever again glow?





Hit him hard without mercy

Time has just now done

Issues gone under the sun

His hell has just begun


Impossible, no, please, alright

Four stages in every turn

Horrified, realized, pledged, distraught

Things left in his urn


Life, hope, love, laughter

Deprive, suffer, doubt, sorrow

One was said, the other done

Help he wants to come.


Warnings and hints were given a miss

Choosing a fiddler instead

Sat and watched his home being burnt

Playing the fiddle in his head


Then it happened, swift and fast

Flames engulfed himself,

Saved he was well and good

But his home was all but dead


Now he wished he paid more heed

Had a timeturner instead

Of his life and his possessions

He’s just a miserable wreak



 PS: Its not Autobiographical…just that I seem to be able to write only melancholic poems 😛