He comes in like a buccaneer, tip toed Into her life, conquering her dreams Adding his own sweet hues and mystifying music To her silence, deadly and intrepid She wonders how each thought of his Gives her joy and brings that long lost smile back so oft. She marvels at love – the joy it fills in her heart In every moment that she spends with him And as she wonders, is he her prince Who sought her after so long? When her dreams are diminishing And her beauty fading in the rising dusk Hopes languished and desires weakened As her spirit espies a living death with each moment gone by She wonders if she deserves such joy Or is this destiny’s next cruel ploy…
Preeti Govada is a freelance writer and poet. Born and brought up in Hyderabad, she’s done her MBA in Human relations and currently resides at Mumbai with her husband and son. She’s currently working on her upcoming book which is a collection of short stories. She loves observing people around her and integrating their experiences into her short stories and poetry. Besides dabbling at cooking, she enjoys travelling, browsing the internet, reading and spending time with her family. If you’d like to connect with her, you can email her at preetivandanamba@yahoo.co.in.
He comes….a sneaky tone within no full stops shows in spirit how love is like a sail on a quiet sea – sometimes quite unpredictable. I like the nuances within this short piece.
This is a beautiful romance poem. He comes in like a night and shining armor fulfilling her dreams, yet she wonders if he is the one or if he is just misleading her. It is so hard to take a chance on love when we have been burned time and again. This is true no matter what age we are when this happens, I suppose to let God guide me would be my choice. Well written, you have an amazing gift with words.
Waiting under the opaque moon a primeval instinct takes over you and you start arriving. A black bone renders the ash on your forehead and you complete the circle – reaching childhood; you start climbing the ladder, for instantaneous release.
He is the unreadable art of my poem… He is mine cold air in this hot summer… His voice is my favourite… Without hearing him i am deaf… Without seen him i am blind… He always try to make me
Who said that dawn doesn’t know him? Yes … Who has said that? He is secreting night when the sunset flows to poem end ; the flute, which surrendered stealthily to the day song, it runs away from the maze
We Start every morning like the old Silver Fox We get out of breath putting on our socks We look in the mirror and make such a fuss there’s two old people looking back at us We stumble to the
The screams became louder, and he grew darker. Money which we call a sign of progress took its way through under table, The day rape victim was ashamed of herself, humanity went unstable. But let’s not focus about us because
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4 Comments on "He comes…"
He comes….a sneaky tone within no full stops shows in spirit how love is like a sail on a quiet sea – sometimes quite unpredictable. I like the nuances within this short piece.
This is a beautiful romance poem. He comes in like a night and shining armor fulfilling her dreams, yet she wonders if he is the one or if he is just misleading her. It is so hard to take a chance on love when we have been burned time and again. This is true no matter what age we are when this happens, I suppose to let God guide me would be my choice. Well written, you have an amazing gift with words.
nice work…keep it up…Preeti
She wonders if she deserves such joy
Or is this destiny’s next cruel ploy…
Wonderful.