miss honest

A tiny seed bottled inside, once broke out into a poem. The poetess loved it so much that even the spelling mistakes were spared.

Friday, February 08, 2008

Postpartum Depression

All nights look the same shade of sorrow
The thoughtful gloom of a heavy heart
When hurriedly they, from their wombs,
Evict a dream conceived that day.

7 Comments:

Anonymous said...: Oh, thou, pale artist of weariness and vanity!
Make amends on the labours I killed
At the solemn departures of thy feet:
I have laid down beneath my sacramental tears.
Is it for want of a scar that you will not baptise me?; 9:57 am
Anonymous said...: u keep posting such beautifully written lines...; 1:56 pm
Archana said...: Achu thanks for that. :D. I was looking at the litter I have created. Feel like giving this blog a wash and deleting everything.

@sanket:
That comment meant nothing and hence would be bullshit or perhaps 'poetshit' to me. Didn't mean to hurt anybody. Just that, if u were trying to make a point, it completely missed me.; 2:53 pm
Anonymous said...: Hello. This post is likeable, and your blog is very interesting, congratulations :-). I will add in my blogroll =). If possible gives a last there on my blog, it is about the Celular, I hope you enjoy. The address is http://telefone-celular-brasil.blogspot.com. A hug.; 2:20 am
Winnie the poohi said...: beautiful!; 1:48 pm
vimsical said...: "When hurriedly they, from their wombs,
Evict a dream conceived that day."

Very very poignant.; 6:11 pm
Leena said...: as ever...deep thoughts woven into a web of beauty...such a pleasure to even try and fathom the depth of your thoughts:) don't ever wash down your blogthoughts--they are so amazing:)keep it going girl:); 10:32 pm