Skip to main content

Pocket Full of Love


So this girl had a tiny pocket,
Smaller than the smallest bucket.
But she made good use of it,
So she had no time to sit.                                  
In the pocket she went around collecting
A golden powder, always shimmering.
It shone brightly on her hands,
Each time she held the powdery sand.
She loved the glittery color,
She loved the subtle perfume,
She loved the powdery touch,
And sometimes the bitter sweet taste.
She loved the powder so much,
That she travelled till Deutsch,
Assembling the powder,
As her pocket grew crowded.
Always in a frenzy,
She went around collecting.
One fine morning on her way,
When she couldn’t find more,
To add to her exiting store,
She paused from her frenzy,
And felt her pocket weightless.
It couldn’t be.
She had found so much of the powder
And now it felt like it had all blown with the wind,
Or washed with the waves,
Or simply passed into nothingness!
With much anticipation and a little doubt,
She put her hand
Into the Pocket Full of Love.
Only to realize
That there had been a hole all this while,
In her pocket full of love.
Sadly, she cried and cried
And swore to never love love.
She blamed herself
And she blamed the world.
Melancholic and distressed,
She kept walking ahead.
Forgetting to look back,
At the lane behind her,
Shimmering with the powder
That had fallen out,
From her Pocket full of love!
Labels:

Comments

  1. Bani28 February 2012 at 03:12

    brings a smile to face face (again) =)
    shall 'paint' The 'Pocket full of love'soon... :* thanks!!
    ~love and lots gold! =)
    ps-i like the new background and design..

    ReplyDelete
  2. Aks28 February 2012 at 06:22

    You can see how hard I tried to stick to a rhyme scheme! But, Dayumm! :D And glad you liked it! :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous28 February 2012 at 06:31

    That was wonderful :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Aks29 February 2012 at 05:56

    Thank You! :)

    ReplyDelete
  5. Amritorupa Kanjilal 5 March 2012 at 19:49

    Hello Aks, this is my first time on your blog, and I liked it very much. Your poetry is whimsical and fanciful, and very enjoyable to read. I also liked that you are a fan of Pablo Neruda. So am I!

    I recently started a new blog, about books and book reviews. Please have a look at http://riversihaveknown.wordpress.com/
    Please visit it, and if you like it, please become a follower. I am looking forward to feedback from you to help me improve my style.
    Hoping you like my blog as much as i liked yours!
    Amritorupa Kanjilal

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spirals and Circles

So here is a mathematical answer to a question that I have quite often asked myself and seldom troubled my friends with: “Does life move in Spirals or Circles?” The course that life takes is often described as a maze by some and a road with lots of twists and turns by others. A complicated web of events, people, emotions and thoughts, caught between these is you, the spider. A lot of our religious books refer to the course of life as “the cycle of life”, which essentially means “the circle of life”. It is perhaps the phrase used most often during those innumerable philosophical discussions that boring people like us have over drinks with friends. Yes, I have been ranting for quite a while, without really bringing in what I promised: the mathematics! In laymen terms, a circle is a two dimensional figure which is a collection of all points that are at equal distances from a given point. Essentially, a circle starts and ends at the same point. A spiral, is a three dimensional figur...
9 comments
Read more

That Was It!

Lean and lanky, he sat at his badly lit study table. He had spent most part of his youth and his entire old age in the same place, in front of the same bundle of papers, which would have once been blank, but now were a confused mess of mathematical symbols and philosophical meanderings. The batteries of his table lamp had long ago given up, but too busy to change them, he chose to carry on, letting the lamp shade accumulate dirt and his spectacles, a higher power. The cushion of his chair had sunk deep inside by the unmoving weight of his body. His fatigued mind could not remember the date of when it all started but his objective was still as crystal clear to him, as it had been then. He had embarked on the search for a separate identity, trying to defy the mathematical theorem of “Uniqueness of Identity”. “There is only one identity which is unique”. There has to be a way to finding another identity, a separate identity. Or so he thought. The Indo- Pak war, the Canadian War, the ne...
5 comments
Read more

It

He hated it. So much so that he couldn’t stand It for the shortest period of time. It was almost like a monster eating him up. Slow and steady, like an insect it would creep out of nowhere and linger around him for eternity. Making him almost claustrophobic with it’s presence. Like a rope tied around his neck, forbidding him to speak anything. All he could do was shouting in vain, hoping that someone would take it away from him. It was in It’s presence that the woman that he had loved so much had left him. It reminded him of those exam halls sitting inside which all he could ever do was staring at the empty answer sheet that he always submitted! Bringing back pathetic memories of the Conferences where he tried so hard to elicit some response from the other side. Or the umpteen attempts at making his audience laugh, failing most of the time. She loved it. So much so that it was like a part of her. She was used to it, like the chirping of birds, the presence of the wind. She did not fin...
8 comments
Read more