THE TRUTH, Poetry by Prateeque Ojha

Genre: Rhyme, Dark, Life, Society

by Prateeque Ojha

Like a rose stifled by ribbons of words,
Enwrapped in a plastic bouquet of prose,
Made attractive as a whore’s painted face,
Once perceived by the senses, makes its way,
Serpent like into our hearts and sucks the
Soul like a python does its prey, deep within,
Beyond the reddened lips and blackened eyes,
Into an abysmal whirlpool of despair.
Seeking to suck you into its deep, dark,
Black hole, the other side of which lies,
A graveyard of dreams and a maze of trodden paths,
Lined by leafless trees, on a branch of one I see,
Perched my Soul withered, tired but enrapt by the
Vision of me peering at it from the gates of Time.

Still wondering at the absurdity of life!
Just when you think you’re traveling smoothly in your desired direction.
You’re suddenly thrown back to exactly where you started,
Despite all your fortifications against such setbacks.
Can we ever reach our stars?
Can we ever find the hidden pot at the end of the rainbow?
Can we really ever be FREE?

Knowing yourself and yet running away creates the conflict.
The whole milieu here is suffocating,
Like an imperceptible cloud of a lethal gas,
Choking one to a slow but sure death.
These concrete structures resembling plastic cakes stuck to each other,
Too seem to be fighting for space like their owners fighting for more.
Greed seems to be the operating system of these landlords!
The rain dissolves all accumulated dust.
The light from the street and vehicle head lamps,
Merges into the shimmering black roads,
Becoming one dissolved source of
Diffused light from somewhere
Beyond all the hustle bustle of the city.

By WILDsound Festival

Submitters reactions to their feedback on their stories. New testimonials coming each month! Watch this month's winning readings. At least 15 performances a month: Submit your script, story, poem, or film to the festival today:


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