Self Portrait as Dushyanta

How long I’m riding through this jungle

I don’t know.

I know only her face; I know of the moments we spent.

First time I saw her beside the river.

Serene, calm, composed moment was that.

How much I miss her–are there’re words to speak of the ache.

How long I’m riding through this jungle .

I don’t know.

Last time I saw her crying and sobbing at my feet

As I denied her and cursed her calling her

Dirty and filthy, jungle living maiden.

A ring she had said gifted by me to her ‘fore I return

Or is it before we had have our farewell.

The ring now I hold close to me.

It has remain with the fish

As she had remain with me in my hazed dreams

In my leisure moments as a smile,–

As a lighting in new moon eve.

How long I’m riding through this jungle

(Or will it be the life)

Searching for her, my love

(Or will it be the truth–

The truth, love can happened, it never occurred).

How long I am going to ride before I meet her

And what’ll I say when I’ll look into her eyes…

Written for Early Bird Prompt, National/Global Poem Writing Month 2019.

Prompt:
A poem in which you portray yourself in the guise of a historical or mythical figure.

2 responses to “Self Portrait as Dushyanta”

  1. Really felt like I was travelling through the jungle while reading this, experiencing history in the making and the emotional heartache/yearning for his queen. Your poem is as fascinating as the stories that it is derived from. Excellent take on the prompt Sangbad 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My pleasure you liked it so much

      Like

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