It's just poetry, it won't bite

Sometimes


03.13.19 Posted in today's words by

Megha Sood lives and writes in Jersey City, New Jersey.

Sometimes
By Megha Sood

Sometimes I think
if the sleep has a color
it will be of the darkest blue
like the heart of the ocean
where the ray of light slices
and pierces its soul
leaving a sieve of emotions

Sometimes I think
if the awakening has a color
it would the like the deep shade of orange
like the memory of a dawn
hiding behind the eyelids

Sometimes I think if the
we could somehow feel the soul
losing itself into the oblivion
like the burning peel of the oranges slices
slowly losing itself in the thin air
where time eats time
and shadows begets the identity
of a soulless monsters
lingering in the hallway
calling my name

Sometimes I think if the river has a dream
beneath its silver-white appearance
bedazzled by the shining sun
and claiming its existence
between the silt and the sediment
what color would it be

Sometimes I think
what color would my dreams be
if not dipped into the edge of darkness
only to be scattered and broken
into a prismatic experience
for my tepid soul
to delve into

Sometimes I think
what symphony would closely resemble my silence
if I ever try to break this dissonance
and dissolve this into the moments of time
like salt into the water

Sometimes I think what would happen
to the fate of
orphan words
if this poem refuses to exist.
Just Sometimes.



One Response to “Sometimes”

  1. Charlene james says:

    This is absolutely lovely, enveloping, sparkling. Look forward to more.

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