The sculpt of her image
is fixated in his vision,
badgering him with questions
he has long resigned from.
And his thoughts leading him
to an unavoidable cataclysm,
but his bellicose grit
fighting hard to make his visage shine.
He abstains from wearing
that pugnacious demeanor,
but the pandemonium breached
his assumed disguised calm.
Such was the apocalypse
caused by woebegone heart,
comes close then peevishly depart.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
14 thoughts on “Her Sculpt”
Very well worded, last line is a killer
I needed dictionary to search meanings 😊
I looked up “pugnacious” hehe. 🙂
Beautifully written. You have a wonderful way with words. 🙂
I do that often with your poem😊. Thanks for your kind read
Thanks so much Richa ❤️
Thanks so much my dear friend
Really I always felt my words are very easy, I admire your vocabulary really, you bring such versatility!
I know 😁
Feeling is absolutely mutual dear
The last four lines are so brilliantly written.Bravo.
Thanks so much,
Megha. Much humbled