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DEVIL'S CORNER
POETRY
“THE
DYING TREE”
By:- Bobo
“YOUR EYES”
Your eyes
shine, Like the
chandeliers hanging from the tips of leaves after a fresh rain. Your eyes
dance, like the
impressions left upon the sky by the clouds on a windy day. Your eyes
mesmerize, Like the
intonations of a cuckoo after the dusk envelops us. Your eyes
arouse passion, Like the
flooded river inundating it’s banks. Your eyes
are deep, Like the
ocean surrounding an island where I am languishing amidst the groves.
And I want to sleep...
“THE DYING TREE”
The rusting
leaves, Cling to
their branches,
Like the decrepit remains of hair,
On a balding forehead, Something
past their prime, But
refusing to yield,
Like the clouds on,
A drought stricken land, The bark
peels off, Like the
skin shed by a snake,
But what it gives is,
Wrinkled lines on an ageing face, The
branches are with out fruits, Like a
childless woman,
Whose
sheen has withered,
For the virtuous society, The birds
refuse to sit, On its
cursed branches,
Neither do squirrels,
Play its naughty tactics, It’s like
an ageing man, Waiting for
his death,
But
the last days of old,
Are longer than years of youth.
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