Sunday, January 31, 2010


Steps on to the podium,
Takes his bow.
In thin air, his baton draws,
Invisible patterns.

To the first swing,
A breeze plays,
Shivering the leaves.

A brisk move of his baton,
Waves catch up with
A grandeur note,
And then going silent

The prelude over,
Through adagios,
Allegros and allegrissimos
Symphony plays.

Rain comes down,
Playing solo,
To its receding tone,
Birds chirping.

Symphony mesmerizes,
Then as a fugue it plays
Notes of destruction.
Where everything comes to an end.

When silence plays,
Nothing is heard,
But men, silently weeping.


Amiya chatterjee said...

Simply beautiful symphony of silence .
Fugue and silence !!! oawo !
The musicians shall turn inside the grave and groan.

man in painting said...

there are ripples in nothingness
like undiscovered love
they come and go...
nice one..

jagadeesh said...

Thank you Amiya-ji.