Thursday, October 31, 2013


Salomi john valsen
We all live in a house---
Which has no breath and life..
The walls are wide and coloourful
Yet they seem moribund..
We named it our rooms,
And I call it as the tavern of sorrows
It has four ends-vivid shapes..
Rectangular , square and hexoganal.
Yes we made it for us,,in our own choice.
Because we all simply in love with this arid nest.
Yes we are in love,,,love with this lifeless snobbish thing.
Which has no life ..without our laughter and sighs..
Whispers and secret but hot tears.
Poor being,,the pathetic,,,
It cannot survive without us..until it being a debri.
We hide our identity in the inner force..
Under the surveilance of an unseen entity..
We live like an intruder who tries to tresspasses
The forbidden line of control.{ LOC }
Like a coward we shut the door with great fear..
Always finds an unfind shadow is behind us.
We live like a haunted and wanted suspect.
Yes ,why we shut the door and sit inside…
We really dwell in fearful fear..
Fears every one and every thing on our wayward life
Because we have to and we love to live…
Till eternity., through the sufferings…
Which is habitual and we don’t want to
Dig the nuggets of reasons,,
Our reasoning is a broken windo pane.
It is there ,,for us ,to maintain our house
The much loved  and abandoned one…
Our house which we ourselves refuses to
Make it as a home………