I stared out.
Of the moments of wordlessness.
Naked body with fresh wounds.
Fading love-bites. Cheeks stained
with tears of longing. Crumpled bed.
Ungraspable is the silence. You are dead.
Of a few leaves left on the tree, one more
leaf wails openly with the breeze.
You wait outside my door.Ready to walk out.
Heartless.To die out of my life.
To leave the grey skies for me.
To born afresh on some other breast.
I must get up to breathe you
before you are gone.
A heap of old notes of pleasant evenings.
A bunch of ardently scribbled poems.
My old love speechless at the door.
Running silently from his old life……
Not so competent enough to write one’s reflections in a poignant way. But I fell in love with both the temerity and vulnerability of this reflection. A few opinions that flew at my direction :”I have to say that I too wonder at the paradoxes in the poem but I also think it has a nice lush-ness to it because of the impulsive way it’s written. I got the feeling that it wasn’t touched after it was written, which is nice somtimes. The first two lines are wonderful – I could create a hundred things just from those two lines. So too these lines – very poignant and fresh.
“Of a few leaves left on the tree, one more leaf wails openly with the breeze.”
I feel it could do with a little tweaking here and there in terms of grammar and linebreaks. Gautami says, “I really enjoyed reading this. A heap of old notes of pleasant evenings. A bunch of ardently scribbled poems.”Apart from the first two lines, these two lines too stand out for me…Raw depictions are best for raw feelings. Max sir lauded “this was beautiful. One tiny nitpick though, is ‘ungraspable’ as a word acceptable in English? I would have used slippery, unctuous, greasy, teasing, tantalizing, rather than turn a positive into a never-heard-of negative. Keep writing, nice to see you blossom again…” n like a wicked girl, I was gleeful.