Narrative Poem : The Stalker (Revised)


On the far side,
alone on her seat
in the fast moving metro
he spots her
(the corner of the eye is cliche)

Some energy passes between them
she shuffles uneasily in her seat
glances around matter-of-factly. (avoid the ing)

A faded red coat and rough old denims
try in vain to protect her slender frame.
The cold bites.

Her raven hair struggle
to break free from under her
worn out scarf.

In her twenties
she ravishes the viewer
hazel eyes full of mixed emotions
her fair cheeks glow with a dash of red
stolen color from her dress
or is i biting cold bringing the hue ?

He wonders.

She flips through the magazine in her hands,
keeping to herself
occasionally pushing the rebellious curls
under her scarf.

Their eyes meet,
her lip twitches
makes her way to the door
alights at the next stop.

He too alights,
from a safe distance
trails her as she turns
on the empty stretch.
half lit by dull street lights.

She quickens her pace

He musters courage and
shortens the distance
between them.

Lightning flashes and
pearls of rain begin to fall.

She shivers
the cold wind
cuts through her slender body.

He notices her rough walking shoes
make strange crunching noise
on the wet pebbly street.

He digs into the pockets
continues to walk silently
just a few steps behind.

Pretending to be strong,
without a backward glance,
she walks on.

It starts to drizzle.

She opens her umbrella
filling the bleak evening sky
with white fluorescent stars

He tries to cover his head
with an old newspaper.

She gives him a baffled look,
their eyes meet again

“Cold wet evening, isn’t it?”
A cup of coffee perhaps?
there’s a shop at the next bend.”

They reach the crossroads

“No thank you I am in a rush.”

takes the other road.
Vanishing into the array of
dark ghostly houses.

He watches
until only her fragrance remains.

“Lavender”, he smiles to himself
kicking a perfectly round pebble
into the valley.


7 thoughts on “Narrative Poem : The Stalker (Revised)

  1. Tense.

    A missed chance?

    *Sigh*…the art of learning how to love from a distance because one is not desirable is a difficult one to learn.

    And forged nicely with words: “pearls of rain” (exquisite).



  2. Thanks Rahul

    Prats .. my sympathies 🙂 …I guess women are all over like that …

    🙂 Tim ..Sigh !!!

    gracias amigo


  3. yeah.. this could have gone on for more time and i’d have still been captivated by the flow so easily.. kudos for such an enchanting piece of poetry! 🙂


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