Monday, November 06, 2006

sonnet 2

by Edna St.Vincent Millay

For you there is no song...
Only the shaking
Of the voice that meant to sing; the sound of the
Voice breaking.

Strange in my hand appears
The pen, and yours broken.
There are ink and tears on the page; only the tears
Have spoken.


Anonymous satvinder said...


Bhenji, I don't know why but this really touched a nerve.

Thank you for sharing it.

Monday, November 06, 2006 3:18:00 PM  
Blogger Sikhi Seeker said...

Speechless!!! This leaves me speechless!

Thank you for sharing this :D

Monday, November 06, 2006 3:34:00 PM  
Anonymous satvinder said...

bhenji bhenji... [jumping up and down like a three year old] something for you on my bloggie under your comments for me x

Wednesday, November 08, 2006 6:27:00 PM  
Blogger upinder kaur said...

Beautiful poem !
I visited your blog for the first time today. This is a place where wave lengths match...

Thursday, November 09, 2006 4:55:00 AM  
Anonymous satvinder said...

wish I could fave this post. I think this is my favorite poem of all time now.

Friday, February 09, 2007 4:56:00 PM  

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