16 february 2013

Into a Phantom Past

Sitting solitary,
On my old and wooden rocking chair,
I peek through the window,
To my long lost,
Phantom past.
 
Flashbacks waft in,
With the gentle Southerlies,
To repaint the whitewashed canvas,
Of my age old memory.
 
Is that infancy?
Perhaps of boyhood?
Nothing seems clear.
Just a feeling of a tender touch,
a sense of harbor,
warms my heart.
 
I sit on my age old wooden rocking chair,
Peeking through the window,
Into the placid blue sky.
I see moulds of my memory,
in the white soft clouds.
 
Did I tell you? It was the beginning of summer!
The northwester comes and goes,
And draws the images of my by gone days,
With the brush of gusty wind.
 
Was the storm real?
Or, was it my peaceful mind,
Throwing a sudden frightful tantrum?
I can hardly fathom.
 
My turbulent present,
Mocks me,
As I reminisce,
Through my misty past,
To find a tint of gold,
As a clue to a blessed future.
 
Sitting solitary,
On my old and wooden rocking chair,
I peek through the window,
To my long lost,
Phantom past.


number of comments: 4 | rating: 2 |  more 

Kahlia Mazacalletti,  

Toufiq-Very nice poem.....I felt at times I was in your poem.......Kahlia

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TOUFIQ UL ALAM,  

Thanks a lot.... I feel honored ... when the reader can relate the poem to something in the real world, it becomes his success....

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louis gander,  

I like the correlation of your life/memories to the weather. I also like how it reads. Nice poem Toufiq. ~louis

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TOUFIQ UL ALAM,  

Louis, Thanks a lot .... during the lazy hours of a busy day... it often happens.. who I am, where am I from... and where to.... so many questions surfaces...

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