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Articles: Poetry | He
- Mr. Venkat Siddareddy
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He eats a rotten apple.
Its reddish colour is tardily vanishing in to a dark brown.
Why the colour does resemble yours so lovingly?
The juices slide inwardly upon the tongue.
The maleficent taste drags on the lips.
He watches a drawn-out TV episode.
Its heroine is growing old too soon.
Why the lady does resemble you so lovingly?
The frames slide one after another on the screen.
The wrinkles on her face are felt nether his eyes.
He listens to a played out tape.
Its music is reversing into perturbing noise.
Why the music does resemble your smile so lovingly?
The tracks slide shakily upon the magnetic head.
The noise matures violently in his ears.
He lies on a worn-out bed.
Its cushion springs are now a mass of metal.
Why the bed does resemble your skin so lovingly?
The body lies still on the bed at rest.
The life slowly breaks away from his body.
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