A little commentary and a small poem. . .
. . . By Salazar Slytherin. . .
Love. It might feel vague, subtle and a little of interest for eccentric guys like me, but I’m often knocked into conciseness of the intense element it possess. It is heavy, huge, and to put in apt words: humongous! It bellows in the soul and flushes all the satanic dusts which webbed the heart.
But we must do reckon, it is not love that is great, no not at all and I’m not that cheesy to say humans which possess love are great, nah, they aren’t. The one true gallant persona of the intense eccentric feeling according to me is. . . The Angel of Love. . .
I have a lot of emotion contained in me and I believe, that’s that Angel who had shown mercy to have such a prosperous feeling embroidered inside me. . . And, I want a tribute for such an Angel who is walking on Earth, in the midst of us. . .
“Unclipped the wings, which can fly her aloof,
She walked on earth, lucky, she is my muse. . .
I saw her face, which is humble surfaced,
What a disgrace, men couldn’t recognise or care. . .
I knew her cheeks, divinely crafted in pink,
No dust or rust, never can mark her at best. . .
The gilt of those nails; thunders stuck awe in their gaze,
No fret no rage, tranquil waters flew in my veins. . .
Float of her strands, like holy Ganges in trance,
She stepped off heaven, like tourist in holy errand. . .
I walked behind, lustily trying for glance,
But it’s all sun shine, blinding me in her Goldy furnace. . .
Thence I saw through, her spine is a pinkish sword, through,
Which’s understood, she protector of true. . .
Love that survives, on this place that’s so dead,
I walked to her, hoping her treasure to get fed. . .”
{I’m feeling sorry for myself, I couldn’t complete the totality I had dreamt of this little fragment of verse, but I can’t forge or fake the real verse’s emotion!}
WRITE WHAT YOU FEEL 