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THE FIRE-FLY



So late into the night,
A pale yellow light,
The room is all so gloomy.
The sorry wreck of myself
Perched on the chair,
Hitting some notes
On the faithful old guitar.
The fingers find their way
To the chords that may
Drive in some fun.
But the melancholy minors
Are always there to  stay.

Oh! A fire-fly!
What a delight!
Full of it’s happy light…
Near the corner of the room
It sits down to rest,
Spreading its light all along.
 I partake of the happiness
And the guitar responds
With such vigour and joy
That the gloom of the room
Seems like misty history.



The fire-fly starts feeling restless.
So much of joy…
So hard to contain…
Its job is done.
It has made me feel so good.
Now it can leave
And spread the mood around.
It takes off, hovers in the air,
Goes higher, takes a swing…
And oh!!The cruel blade-
The return-gift from humanity…

It drops down on the table,
Its light slowly fading out…
I keep staring at it
Until its struggle stops.
The guitar strings play on
The blades of the fan go on
The pale yellow light remains
And the room gets back
To the previous state.
Nothing has changed
But I…

Comments

  1. Jaba18 February 2012 at 17:31

    Wow Rick! I loved this one... Keep writing!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous18 February 2012 at 19:54

    loved this.. the best of the 3 poems :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. tirthankar18 February 2012 at 20:57

    am i not a fly like thee?? are you not a fly like me?...at d end, i was so desparately waiting for d little change in you, noile jodi sob i same to same thakto ami boro dukkho petam....:-)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Debmalya Dhar19 February 2012 at 11:37

    Very moving.....

    ReplyDelete
  5. Anonymous19 February 2012 at 12:36

    talk of ephemreal beauty......voilà!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Taniya19 February 2012 at 12:38

    one of the rare times when the glow from without dispersed the gloom within...usually with you it is the other way round..dat way i agree with tirthankar, it is a welcome change...a very good poem indeed...i would like to have few 'resurrecting' poems like this one, from time-to-time, amidst the abysmal existential groan ur poetry usually lets out.. :P

    ReplyDelete
  7. Devaleena20 February 2012 at 11:58

    "Nothing has changed
    but I"
    ending ta byapok ... it gives a completely different feel to the poem. The change that is hinted at is essential or else the poem wud hv lost its impact ...
    keep writin ... luvlyyy

    ReplyDelete
  8. Devaleena20 February 2012 at 12:03

    "Nothing has changed
    but I..." ending ta byapok ... if d change that is hinted at wud b missing the whole impact of the poem wud hv been lost...
    luvvlyyy ... keep writin :)))

    ReplyDelete
  9. SUKTI27 February 2012 at 21:47

    awesome...the mood swing grips me...i can very well visualize the whole incident...so common and yet so rare...the tiny death justly plays on the strings of the poet's heart as well as of the readers...i can feel that the darkness turns deeper after a moments lightening...good job

    ReplyDelete

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