Monday, December 12, 2005


The square with its four boundaries
limits the flights, the wanderings..
The wings of imagination are caught in its perimetre-
binding, suffocating, the hold's getting tighter.

The words of wisdom, the big talks.
The precautions highlighted in all walks
snatch away the 'self', leave it in a maze..
only to see the world through haze.

Traditions are stable...they support
but they fence
They are shackles trying to bind time
but with passing time make no sense.

There at a distance is a new unsteady plane
waiting to be explored, to be touched
A plane beckoning the spirit
to free itself from traditions = security = imprisonment.


Blogger sabita said...

Hey Nish this poem, really good. hope to see many more poems online ...keep up the good work !!! ;-) gal ! u rock !!!!! all the best !

12:25 PM  
Blogger filter kaapi said...

awsome,brilliant, fantabulous

5:24 PM  
Blogger Padma said...

Hey..gud ones...hope to read such good works of urs...keep writing...:-)

5:49 PM  
Blogger nishwish said...

dear padma,
thanx for all the support.
keep visiting.

7:56 PM  
Blogger nishwish said...

dear sabita,
u know ur comment matters a lot..
thanx for reading it. hope to delight u with good works in future too.

7:57 PM  
Blogger jocklohm junction said...

i love the line
'They are shackles trying to bind time
but with passing time make no sense'

11:56 AM  
Blogger Anorion said...

Cool mam
security = imprisonment.

8:59 PM  
Blogger nishwish said...

thanx for ur valuable inputs aditya...
keep visiting.

4:50 PM  

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