Had it been, a penny, a cent, or a dime
Hadn’t weighed down, so much, on my heart
How it stabs the soul, that lost half-rhyme
As it tears my mind, two worlds apart!
How to stir, that tide which surged, out of the blue
To then die down, unseen, unheard, unsmelt…yet felt!
Like a tremor, deep down, the unfathomed brew
In which, my subliminal, singularity dwelt!
Is it worth my time, this empty obituary?
For still buds, from its trampled soul, a flare-up anew
There’s more to poetry, than spent mystery
Of verses lavished, on the way, to déjà vu!
Let the chalice, of my bounty spill, yet one more time
For love affair, with reckless flair, comes at a cost
Why quibble over, pains and gains, they’re all sublime
Why despairing be minds’ paradigm, Why Regret A Thought…Lost!
© 2017 Vikas Chandra