Sunday, 30 December 2007

Murder on the mirror

In the wee hours of dawn,
Was her last glance of morn,
After a passionate night,
She dreaded the light.

The unshaken night, to her own disposal,
The air so dead, the air so dull,
Hand cuffed by sleep,
The darkness gave her license to creep.

Alas, I woke,
Before being completely blood-broke,
The beginning of the end to the bitter sweet involvement,
From the bed to the mirror, that’s how she went.
Bitter to me, sweet for her,
Taking over my body with complete lure.

Soft steps on the biting floor,
My spine felt a shiver before reaching the door.
A mouth wide open, and dreary eyes,
Scarlet fears didn't show as lies.

My eye met eye,
As she settled from her high.
Despite the all-nighter,
She was quite a fighter.

Hovering over my reflection,
With a superfluous sense of affection,
My blink didn't pass her,
In her case- Danger.

Gullible buzz trying for the mirror,
Insensitive to a murderer.
Before those wings could flap,
The me I saw got a slap.
In matter of minutes,
She was reduced to bits.

Scarring me in the dark,
Couldn't trespass as a lark,
Sunrise on my side,
Out in the open, nothing to hide.
She against me,
No referee,
I played her prey and she played mine,
Unaware of her predator in for crime.

Murder early morn,
And a million more born,
That’s the end of her tale,
With no funeral to hail.

2 anything but sweet nothings::

a.v.koshy said...

Fascinating- this is what i love about blogs - reveals facets of the person you'd never know of otherwise

I've refrained from correcting the English but if you'd correct one or two slight mistakes these poems would be considered pretty good, Esha.
Well done :)
I also liked the Santa article and the one about the sweaters because of the sense of humour displayed in them.

But I like the poems best, I think, of the six entries I read here...

ChronicP!nk said...

Habits die hard of an English teacher :P Thank you Sir.