Reads: 62  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
though we becoming a grown-up, hardly our heart and mind.

Submitted: May 07, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 07, 2013




They say you‘ve grown a man

They say you should do this & that

They say I am not young

To bear my faults and rogues.


I deemed calmly—why?

If a grown man I am

The feelings are there exactly same

Why feels I am—the tense

In passion for a love for

The thirteen as when I, nineteen;


Say I, why, then the same shy?

Same flattering & twittering

Of love saying utters in my

Lips in thy presence or her, O luv;

Why are these then there?

Why I am, a grown up man;

Not bear faults the same as of then

Why O man—a heart, full of love

For a young girl of thirteen,

Never grown as these are, of Earth.


Say me—

Why all those passion, anguish

And fire still on this poor heart?

Say me—

Why, the same intense

To do wrong once again

To fall in a danger—Why?

 Say me O man, why the

Childish play of words or dreams

Innocent ever urges----?

Peeps the heart as well:

  Why all those aspires of


 --Dear, O my dear,

Why the burning face

Young,  comes to wake me

At night? Why the coquettish

Of her or theirs charms---

Hug me ever, my innocent heart.

Why that same insufferable

Pain in love as of young’s

In this age of thirty’s?


You can’t, I dare say, O man

You have grown with arts, I none

I am, as I was

Full of faults & pleasures;

Out of any artificial, true to heart;

 Listen O dear—

My love for thy heart;

Not artificial, full of pleasures.


But beware the same,

O dear, from these old guys

Full of hearts and treasures, disguise;

Beware of them, O dear,

Even of me of thirty’s---

A man often forced to be ready

Do wrongs, do rogues, do frauds,

To bleed the softest hearts on this earth,

Full of pleasures, beauties and loves.


Beware of these, O girl:

The earth is full of artificial arts, where

So simple are not actually exists;

Out dark-love, cheat, prudery and rogues;

O man, this earth full of arts & frauds.

So why, Forgive;

Forgive me my heart, you see,

The earth, the love is not for me.


9.45 p.m. 01st oct.2012, during a train journey.


© Copyright 2017 paramananda. All rights reserved.

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by paramananda

Popular Tags