Thursday, May 19, 2011

Landslides and Moodswings

As my careworn eyes meet
A quiet few balconies
On an even quieter side street,
My talltales, they shorten;
To the skyline retreat.
As a led astray gush of wind
My neckline sets to greet,
A blank piece of paper and
Endless opportunities
Stir beneath my fingers’ heat.
To move them now is such   
Slight a deed, indeed.

I won’t care for in morning;
This shepherd, that nymph,
And all wretched couplings,
That in moon’s pale stretch lies
A Rome till this ceiling
And a draped windowpane
Could still make a heart wring;
That a finger-painted sky
And the night’s velvety scent
As much cajoles my writing,
As probable a meteor rock is
To crash in a desire spring.

From yon crooked oak tree
To this glass of milk,
The paperballs belonging to me
Often land in that empty plot
To which one has no key;
Often hold some far-off tales
My pen fails to agree.
No passion flower, oak sprouts
No Echoes to repeat after
Such a winding soliloquy.
So in this turbid pool
I, myself, stoop to see.

A poem-maker subverts,
Again seeks bed’s embrace
To unlearn the secrets
I spent a lifespan to chase.
Prep school, one such place;
Approved only after leaving it,
Stabbing its entire rat race.
And in sodden roots of nature
Found my solace.
For only in past participles
My admiration has a face.


Meghana Naidu said...

your phrase formation, is so familiar;
they flow straight into my thoughts without need for processing.
and the last line, right where it needs to be.

MothSmokeLover said...

The imagery is awesome. And the last few lines are amazing. Esp the very last line.

To sum it all up...I simply loved it! :)

Fareed said...

Thank you so.

Lola X said...

Beautiful....Love it!

Lola x

Fareed said...

Run, Lola run... not. Thanks for finding it beautiful, Lola.