The Abysmal Tear

The Abysmal Tear sonnet poems

She gets up, coerced in her stark layers of imagination
She gets up, from the wind that brings, this and from her own receding name
What is she? A soul fashioned from collapsing ideas or merely a reflection?
Reflection of a stardom she never really comprehended, a lame fame.
Her life’s glum now, punctuated with a tear that’s ascending
Flowing up, into a vortex that has fragmented into a soul unloving
Her body’s disheveled and the palpable absence of an entourage, camera, huddle
Is vibrating her psyche so that she finds a strange solace in her own solitary cuddle
Her tears have accumulated in such a force
that her emotions now jeopardize into a hell replete with remorse
Barring her soul, everything, stationary or a living thing
Have dissipated behind a veil where’s there’s nothing to relish, or to sing
The bruises inside her, and, on her soul
Have, finally grown deeper, so that, death, too, doesn’t come as a whole

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1 Comment on "The Abysmal Tear"

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asoke kumar mitra

full of emotions.. imagery used are very nice. totally different style……….wish to read more


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