Is It That Call?
is it that call?
&
quite often i become piteously pithless
both of the body and the mind-
is it that call?
nearer? or far-off?
the old age murmurs.
'quite unlike those days'-
the verdict of the mind
pricks as a thorn-
o, before me how many works
are in stagnation!
in the weight of my thoughts
i am totally drowned-
my duties to my children
remain woefully incomplete-
in my passion to write
bow-like i become on my table-
desirous of reading
lie on my bed
and even sink into sleep -
those lines read long ago
surface in the mind-
'you are perfectly alright! '-
take a very deep breath;
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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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