Monday 25 September 2017

Poetry 2017 Shortlist Mydavolu Venkata Sesha Sathyanarayana


None saw, none knew, none felt.
Blindmen still grope in space,
and walk through briary lanes.
Not even a brace by breeze,
no tender buss on brows
no sound, no scent, no sign!
But faith, a sticky thing;
doesn't loosen grip on bosom.
Ye try to pull it off...
deep pares the psyche's skin
and bursts the tears-vessel.
Blindmen still grope in space!
The stones don't talk or smile,
and burning wicks can't throw
their light on tenuous path.
Incense is sure no spoor
and camphor burns no gloom!
Blindmen still grope in space!
The earth is a lifeless rock
and ether is emptiness!
The planets plead nescience
and star glitters are stoic.
Blindmen still grope in space
but never look inside,
at hiding vast expanse.
Yes, faith is a sticky thing;
let it, let it...till fills
thy soul to full and melds.

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