The Key

It’s just a sleepless night
with towers made of ivory,
A dreamless street
bound by destroyed dreams,
Somewhere there’s a key
to let us out from here.

It’s just a broken town
with dashed hopes and futures,
10-foot barbed wire fences
and the sounds of souls
once free, now prisoners.

Midnight strikes and deserted streets,
the hurricane of defeat.

Somewhere there’s a key
to unlock these gates.
Someday we’ll be free.

© Nishant Tharani 2007
24/9/2007
A Writer’s Island poem.

The Gift

Mystery inside -
you shake patiently, ears
pressed; inside is
all you can imagine.
Eager fingers rip away protection,
last shreds of disguise stripped and
the gift
is revealed.

© Nishant Tharani 2007
17/9/2007

A Writer’s Island poem.

Trapped in the Free World

A glass prison
is the worst of them all;
the doors unlocked,
yet the handle
is taboo to touch.

© Nishant Tharani 2007
12/9/2007

The Flash Effect

Blitz, glare,
Tokyo nightlife
and Times square.
Eyes skim easily, riding
beams of messages.
But on the softest figures,
the dark dull tree,
we stop,
ponder.

© Nishant Tharani 2007
11/9/2007