Did you notice the jagged
song-fragments I scattered
across your lonely lawn, waiting
for you to brush the misty dew from
their soft lips and for love's first kiss
from your melancholy guitar strings?
Did you glimpse the scraps
of paper of lines of black shadows
I strung into a tribal bead necklace
and left lying on your windowsill, waiting
for you to swirl colour and for the slash
of your brush to pump blood through its veins?
Did you smell the fragrance
of the ink I smeared over pregnant
pages and taste the letters, waiting
for you to rearrange them into words
that chant themselves into a spell and for
the sandstorm you will raise on blank paper?
Did you sense the art I smuggled into your dreams, waiting
for your touch to breathe warmth into its faraway glitterglitter?
Exactly what HE would do
17 years ago
9 comments:
The poem doesn't end. The words stay with me,the feeling builds itself with each passing moment.
Certain poems don't need to be re-read,re-explored and analyzed. I wouldn't dare.
One of your best,Shruti.
-hug-
:']
over.whelming.
Love the poem.
Your work has been referred to in my blog here.
One Question: Are you a South Indian of the Tamilian kind? Because if you are then!
*Hoorays and shakes a kindred hand*.
If you're just a normal South Indian from the other three states, then!
*Whoops and offers a cousin-dred hand*. :P
If nothing, then!
*Shakes hand all the same* :P
whaay!
i have paid you back now, you read my piece at 2 in the morning im reading yours at half 2.
but unline mine, yours is very beautiful and subtle. :) so cool work there!
This one is like mist.
Sigh, Shruti.
Shruti, I'm hungover and sleepy and feverish.
This is brilliant. More than I'd noticed the previous time.
I love you.
beautiful..imkindaspeechless :|
Post a Comment