Middle Age Blues


Why earn, a birth, to learn, to age
From the, rainbow farms, of blasé days
To these, lonely lanes, to pilgrimage
Life means, a measure, of malaise!

When we, ain’t young, nor, are we old
Amid, renaissance; resurrection’s throes
A past’s platitude, on, present’s scaffold
Is life, a legacy of, cherished woes!

In kin, and mob, I search, myself
To find, no more, than a, rootless wraith
I’m a, swaggering shadow, of that elf
Who wavers, between, fear and faith!

Every morning, litany, of sin, august
Each noon, a misery, which, world spews
Every twilight, funeral, of life’s, lust
In this miasma, of, Middle Age Blues!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

Submit a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s