Saturday, January 29, 2011


my muse deserted me

leaving behind a vacuum

which grows and grows

and engulfs.

how did I frighten it away?

will it ever return?

dwelling in a vacuum

is no fun.

thoughts drift in

and drift away.

like a yo-yo

with the string snapped

i roll away

and stop in some corner

till the cleaner sweeps me off and dumps me

in the waste bin

to be trashed.


Balachandran V said...

I couldn't help musing over your poem -and wrote a kind of poem myself! The thread and the hand and the trash bin all are ourselves, I guess.

anilkurup59 said...

May be all mentioned here are metaphors. But the end is a universal law, isn't it?