Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Box

I guard my ego, without any scratch
like the geometry box in the childhood.

Like those circles, rectangles and triangles
I have different faces stenciled
(both Smooth and sharp)

The coldness of that iron case
Is in my speech;
Pointed phrases like the compass
often dot it.

I have different colors outside
But inside I am gray with graphite ;
Staining the hands that open me up
I leave the mark
in a fading black.

8 comments:

Rukhiya said...

What a wonderful metaphor! You had me into it right from the start, it did not need to build up. Its like something to connect to instantly. Very nice. :)

Sashu... said...

absolutely stunnin a write :)

darkshine said...

dude nice one raa ...
simple yet elegant

liked it

Crafty Green Poet said...

I like the metaphor you've used here

Nathan1313 said...

Well crafted and yes, an excellent use of the metaphor

gautami tripathy said...

I like the first line!

plunging in the tunneled abyss

throwshiswords said...

I feel like this sometimes; I found this poem very moving.

http://throwshiswords.wordpress.com

UL said...

how well you put math and life in a box...very nicely done...