Tag Archives: life

Night Vision

prehend a pellucid sigh

from dormant lips a-tremble

seal it in felicitous flask

labelled gasps assembled

.

so delicate a breath

cyclic in nocturnal assail

with shades of soul soon aloft

on mistrals of moistened exhale

.

yet tumbles the silent ask

of shadows seeking answers

as shimmer of nightshade flickers

behold the Cimmerian dancers

.

fickle sleep…shall i defy you?

when wakeful is the dream

till sway of curtain

yields pierce of light

relinquish not

this lover’s sight

Skin

my skin

won’t break

though tainted from scratch

and taunted by branding iron

tremulously inked with tattoo tint

dehydrated, despite monsoon

singed when sun fires through ozone

it shall be a resilient dermal shield

when unsuspecting hearts yield

to the treachery of time

..

there will always be skin

pulled tight over bone

bending

presumed to be a smile

unending

grimacing curve of lip tension

errant betrayal of intention

when puckered with piloerection

wrapping, sealing

neuropathic unfeeling

your skin

Sacrifice

i was a bird

tried to launch from a balcony

but you saw the calamitous skies

rendered opaque in my eyes

and grabbed my gnarly wings

feathers fell: funereal offerings

.

when I was a python

i had a serpentine aspiration

to contort and twist into suffocation

but you distracted me with quail eggs,

juggled by a roguish marmoset

cajoled by such tomfoolery, I forget

.

then I was a leopard

i slipped away into the night

camouflaged in shadows

to a covert carnage site

later, to discover in defiant disarray

pierced through by arrow of curare

at last …. my own lifeless prey

Poetry Knows

and what does poetry know?

how precious a grain of dirt you are in souless soils

sui generis; sacrosanct

how unique words tumble

in cryptic interludes with frantic gasps of reason

and you surface under the millstone of everyday

 

what does poetry know?

 to cast a saturnine stare

hoping someone might be there

to marvel the mess

of words, dishevelled, undressed

fused with bile, froth, despair

to show the you of gems

tentative, uncut

 

what does poetry know?

that you are lacquered

over volatile brush strokes

raw umber light with flecked red ochre

on a mildewed canvas

still needing time to cure

 

give yourself to the place by the window and breathe

my beloved…

poetry knows

Content

Melpomene* drums her fingers on my temples

and bites my lip with potent intent

observes my penury of writing

from her dour dominion of dissent

.

she reminds me of past anguish

rancid rhymes of fervid ferment

a melange of acrid reveries

bursting dams of dark lament

.

how then to explain, oh muse

a pen now dulled, infrequent

i’ve grown weary of the tumult

sybarite surrenders; senescent

this dearth of inspiration

corollary consolation

I am loved , I am content….

.

.

.

*melpomene is the Muse of tragedy

Interlude

i linger in wistful reverie

lacquered luminary layers of mind

and to the clashing soundtrack of the sea

i contemplate

the possibility

of we

.

my gaze falls into the apocryphal azure

of our mutual sky

what if the answers are there….

on high

in the random scatter of the gulls

or in splintered fragments of shells

sifted in fingertips…

in prolonged silences

vacuum distilled defiances

in eyes dampened by distant reminiscences

of

you

.

Bound

gently rest these craven chains

on furtive marks of ferrous stains

and arching ribs are stepping stones

for fingertips

so curve the bones

conceal the gossamer undertones

..

loosely clench the cuffs of steel

bound we stifle what we feel

bound and mute, lest we reveal

the reticent ramifications

of self imposed fortifications

such redolent ramparts of stale repress

 a crestfallen Delphic fortress ..