Green forest trails open out
As far as the eye travels
In words unformed and untold
Deep into the woods
Draw me the eastern wind
Mixed with the salt of the ocean
With tears of unfounded emotion
Deep deep breaths draw in
As much as the heart can hold
Sketches that await the canvass
Paints that await the drawing
As the eyes see beneath the lashes
Closed shut, fearing the sight
Of love mixed in the blood of the lover
Snaking and sweeping through sheaves of grass
Tearing and slithering the skin
Through the venom of vipers
In search of a moment of stillness
Mingled in mirage is the promise
Of hope of a tomorrow
Of stillness beyond vacuous words
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I've moved to Medium
If you came here looking for me, thank you. I am humbled and delighted. 😚 I now blog in Medium. You are welcome to read my stories there .
-
It feels like am almost on the verge of treading the beaten track, what with no blog posts for almost a year, and what’s the only reas...
-
A few years ago, I overheard a couple of feminist friends talking about surrogacy and the need for a more nuanced debate in India, and how a...
2 comments:
The pain of love expressed wonderfully. I loved this "As the eyes see beneath the lashes
Closed shut, fearing the sight
Of love mixed in the blood of the lover". Awesome. The whole poem reminds me of a quote."Love knows not its worth, till the hour of separation."
Very dark, my dear. For once, I will not speak and let a superior being, a poet speak.
Ghazal
for Daniel Hall
I'll do what I must if I'm bold in real time.
A refugee, I'll be parolled in real time.
Cool evidence clawed off like shirts of hell-fire?
A former existence untold in real time . . .
The one you would choose: were you led then by him?
What longing, O Yaar, is controlled in real time?
Each syllable sucked under waves of our earth--
The funeral love comes to hold in real time!
They left him alive so that he could be lonely--
The god of small things is not consoled in real time.
Please afterwards empty my pockets of keys--
It's hell in the city of gold in real time.
God's angels again are-for Satan-forlorn.
Salvation was bought but sin sold in real time.
The throat of the rearview and sliding down it
the Street of Farewell's now unrolled in real time.
I heard the incessant dissolving of silk-
I felt my heart growing so old in real time.
Her heart must be ash where her body lies burned.
What hope lets your hands rake the cold in real time?
Dear Friend, the Belovèd has stolen your words--
Read slowly: the plot will unfold in real time.
--Agha Shahid Ali
(Moushumi)
Post a Comment