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February 6, 2011

The Phantom

Sometimes I’m the hunter,
Other times, I’m the hunted,
They stroll past me on the crowded street, among the vexatious mob,
Of beggars and business men and children of the condemned,
From their delusive depths, expressed from many of their human drawbacks,
This crowd is not of physical flesh.
Their volatile consciences, vanishing in the spicy summer,
Phantoms of the near future,
Day by day, mutely, still.
The finest minds of my era,
Drifting, winding;
An icon of spite and disgust, made evident.
The treasure, she hides in chambers, shielded behind,
Their dreary eyes, their kaleidoscopic visions,
But they can never see me,
Because I,
I resemble someone who is,

10 Mississippi:

Meher S B said...

Wow! It very stark, and i love the last two lines, too good. =)

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

And I thought shadows were just mischievous.

Nice one. abstract and different.

Blasphemous Aesthete

suruchi said...

aren't we all invisible sometimes and at other moments, hope things become invisible?

nyceeeeeeee poem as usual...ur poetic skills are being honed honey:-)

C'est Moi said...

Loved the lines, and the feelings...

loveliferelaions said...

hey you a fantastic way of describing!
love your work.
keep it up!

Pavitra .... said...

@ Meher S B:
Thank you so much!

Pavitra .... said...

@ Blasphemous Aesthete:
Thank you so much! Shadows to me are mysterious...

Pavitra .... said...

@ Suruchi:
Yeah...not only things....sometimes even people become invisible to us....or at least we hope they do...
Thank you so much honey...

Pavitra .... said...

@ C'est Moi:
Thank you so visit more..

Pavitra .... said...

@ loveliferelations:
Thank you soo much!
Do stop by more!