Thursday, April 12, 2012

Portrait

Many of you might not like this poem. It has too many metaphors and is little dark. Please leave your feedback in case you are able to connect,
PORTRAIT
A Portrait first made,
Shed tears for breath,
Maker, your smile,
Lost somehow now betrayed.

A portrait just dressed,
Colored firm and fresh;
Maker you know the soul,
And the layout behind that;

Haggard and blown,
In that weary robe,
A steed, never she rode,
What’s inside the abode?

Cry out – your tears!?
Mixed with colors, a maze,
A salty vision,
I know the taste,

The horse now stabled,
And the picture framed,
Somehow clipped to the doors,
Painter – you strive for more;

Would you bargain me the right?
To kiss her brows,
And more on her toes,
And more with her cores;

Would you let me to the door?
Slammed behind,
With fertile blood,
And blended folks;
Oh! I am lost
Again at the sight,
Few more nights,
Day makes only lights.
Oh! I am for the lights,
If not?
A portrait in my flight,
Peaceful and glowing bright;

What I longed for,
Now stripped to pieces,
Lifeless – beats no more,
Plugged in the whirlpool of saddles;

Would you swallow?
Passersby once more,
The broken portrait,
Retailed to your fortune;

Spoiled brat, you smile,
Through the frame,
But who is your bearer?
A darkness flowed and no names,

The soothsayer now cries,
And plays with my time;
The glory of a sigh portrait,
Brushed throughout and divine.
Shamsud A 
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