Saturday, June 13, 2009

The staring eyes

I could only offer an artificial smile to the eyes staring at me,
Not for any offence but simply for what I wore on an occasion.

I was clean bold when another bouncer came from inquisitive eyes looking for an attire that would have drawn the attention of many.

My words just halted at the tip of my tongue, ‘what if I say I was least bothered to see any such thing’?

That reminded me of my father’s mantra, ‘You need to be presentable wherever you go’.

But I am yet to know which eyes to be followed,

The ones which may simply ignore me when I feel to be at the cloud nine

Or the ones that might praise me at a time when my own eyes might inquire …… who are you?

8 comments:

abhishek anand said...

why so suspicious..is it a kinda identity crisis.written in a very unsecure way.something going on deep inside ur heart

Imagination said...

@Abhi....not a criss.....simply when you want to be just on your own. People try to change you, of course for your betterment, but as per their own perception, try to move from your own roots and your resistance is termed as 'you've changed'... hope it isn't that complicated and suspicious any longer...just my thoughts buddy..

sujata said...

always be happy of appreciating glances and learn from the wary ones!! Great writeup, even the one before this on Tata nagar is great!!

Imagination said...

@Sujata thanks its just that I tried to put my thoughts into words! Its encouraging to read such comments:)

Balachandran V said...

Difficult to make out the state of your mind as you wrote this. Hallmark of your poems is the disturbance, the insecurity that borders on paranoia, the deep-seated wish to keep away and not to embrace...writing is the medication. Beautiful lines that left me uneasy...

Imagination said...

Thanks Balaji, but sorry if it made you feel uneasy.. those were just momnetary thoughts...very true poetry is medication and I was so very releived after writing.

P. Venugopal said...

years ago i had this girl's eyes latched on me. i pushed my collar up and stood flaunting all my elagance, like the way the models do before the camara. then she walked up to me, smiling timidly. she asked: "uncle, do you remember me?" that was the moment i first learned i had become old...nice poem. keep writing.

கவின் said...

i felt its a new style of yours.
keep flying.