The bright red vermilion
On my mother’s forehead
The yellow haldi streaks
On her sari, well-faded
My father’s khaki trousers
Patched and torn
His green striped shirt
A thousand times worn
The pink frilly frock
My sister loved
The blue denim jeans
My brother never had
Such were the hues
In my world
And then it was only red
And gold all around
At last, all became black
Along my way
And all that remained
Was a fistful of ashes grey
I know it has been long since i hv put up something here...pls blame the hectic schedule of my university for this inaction...n this poem was created in 30 mins while i was trying out for 'creative writing' team selections in my college...i was pleased to see that law has not usurped my talents in verse till now...this is not exactly a good attempt but somehow i was satisfied with this piece when it finally shaped up in my mind....
On my mother’s forehead
The yellow haldi streaks
On her sari, well-faded
My father’s khaki trousers
Patched and torn
His green striped shirt
A thousand times worn
The pink frilly frock
My sister loved
The blue denim jeans
My brother never had
Such were the hues
In my world
And then it was only red
And gold all around
At last, all became black
Along my way
And all that remained
Was a fistful of ashes grey
I know it has been long since i hv put up something here...pls blame the hectic schedule of my university for this inaction...n this poem was created in 30 mins while i was trying out for 'creative writing' team selections in my college...i was pleased to see that law has not usurped my talents in verse till now...this is not exactly a good attempt but somehow i was satisfied with this piece when it finally shaped up in my mind....
