by J Meenakshi
In the name of all things a-flight,
I dare not spread my wings.
For as winters stretch, masking light,
The end of all hope rings.
‘Tis a sombre, melancholy feel,
And such contrast does it bear,
To the clear skies’ merry teal,
And the buoyant ardour of the hare.
A trial in itself, it was,
To hinder every befallen impulse!
All in a line like a larder’s jars,
They stoop and crawl with every pulse.
With Herculean strength I brush them away,
Hoping they’ll never again return,
But now I needn’t cry ‘Mayday!’
Perhaps ‘til to-morrow’s turn.
Now I sit, still and gleeful,
Turning page after glorious page.
Expelling the beasts was quite a handful,
But now I retain my toil’s wage.
This poem has been written by J. Meenakshi, CS Academy, Coimbatore.
We love it for the rich imagery and compliance with the strict rules of meter and rhyme while trying to tell a coherent story. Well done, Meenakshi!