At Times
At times the soul gets clenched
in an unspeakable grief
In a demoniac grip, it chokes and wriggles
The pain of being stung by a dozen scorpions
or hacked piece by piece by an axe
Tremulous grows the heart, over love that is spent
Seeks in vain to revive the joy that is gone
Sprains to lift up the veil that darkens the soul
Wrestles to come out from the desolate cave of black solitude
The more it struggles to wade through the mess
the deeper it plunges into the morass of despair
Clung on talons of excruciating pain,
wailing a long wail of never being understood
the mind goes berserk
whirling and churning.
Anytime the volcano might erupt
emitting fumes of sulphurous smoke
with asphalt lava, spilling out,
blowing life with its violent breath.
poem by Valsa George
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
