Nostalgia
I am from a city named Nostalgia.
Here houses were built with bubbles of thoughts.
Countless windows carry yesterday's flavor.
Curtains swing with aesthetic air...
Trees, Birds, Clouds, and stars...
Thorns, Bushes, Tears, and ashes...
All sing an eternal song upon pastness of the past...
Roads run backward...
Drenched with dried rain...
So the minds run ...
Dwellers of this city dwell in dreams...
Passing days pass each a dream...
History is the subject that we read.
People here sow their dreams
And reap them today or tomorrow...
Bidding bye to sorrow...
And I am proud of being nostalgic...
Please never call it a sickness.
I'm fond of that stiffness.
6 comments:
sema thiramamainga ungaluku, ipdi paithiyam pudikumanu ketathuku oru kavitahi eluthiteengale....
Roads run backward...
Drenched with dried rain...
lovely thought I must say..
And Iam proud of being nostalgic..
Please never call it sickness..
well,even I get angry when people name my nostalgia as home-sickness..
I'm not in to english poetry so can't really pass any comments :)
enna Gaythri-busyaaa...no updates?
@Syam,
Thiramai ellaam illeenga..Thoninadhai ezhudhinen.
@The Solitary Reaper,
Thanx for your comment my friend.
@Gopalan,
Comment pass pannalainnu oru comment pass pannitteenga..Thanx..Next one mine will be a tamizh post.
@Karthick,
Yeah I was out of station last week..
new here..u write well...cheers!
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