The Mundane Now

Today smells of grinning death,
While I toy with wordy lulls!
Where do I cease, or do I jolt
The poetic imps of my glib sinew.
It was my right to make my pedestrian
Existence, a worthy memoir!
To be recounted by stark minds,
To enlighten, to propel breath!

Retinued by imagination,
To atone my woe,
My words reach where I can’t,
Journey to places I dream
Whilst staying confined.
I dream of restricted flight.
I evoke muffled giggles,
Sly smiles and quizzical eyes.

I am in need of rescue,
Yet I seek confinement.
I pine for delightfully sad tunes,
I bawl for excitement!
Some conjecture, they have me
Figured out whilst some are
Getting to know my true name.
The elusive lover for adrift souls.

Who better than the static lover?
Devouring my verses with glee
In it’s turbid pages.
With it’s perpetual presence,
Betraying it’s own necessity
To greet decay.
She and I will be one with the
Dusty ages of time.

For, I never wrote for the callow minds,
I wrote only to unburden myself.

-Rounak Barman

Picture courtesy: https://www.maxpixel.net/Hand-Woman-Human-Book-Hands-Literature-Adults-4001398