Like oils on a canvas is the story of her life
Watch as shades turn from colour to gray
And pansies wilt in the bowers shade..
As hail pounds hard on the frail tin roof
A pot of coffee brews in the kitchen
Laid out are two cups and cookies too
===
She sits by the window watching seasons change
Looks up at the wall clock then out again
Time has stopped for her, forever she waits
Her frizzy white hair clasped in a bun
Pale blue eyes, misty with tears that wont flow
For her special guest, she waits and waits...
===
From dawn to dusk the coffee brews
Flies feed on the sticky cookie coating
Like vermin feeding on her soul
She looks on yonder with undying hope
Clasping the prayer beads in her palms
Her gaze transfixed on what lies ahead.
===
As night falls and the day comes to a close
She continues to sit in that very same pose
"He is not coming," says her mind in protest
"Wait for him yet," her heart interjects
Her soul is unsettled, her mind laid dead
Ghosts from the past turn to thoughts in her head
===
The fig tree gets struck by a bolt of light
A crow sits atop it - and falls to its end
The wind brings with it cries of misfortune
The omens try hard to show her the truth
But blinded by faith she pays no heed
And sits on by the window waiting and waiting...
===
A rap on the door disturbs her reverie
There stands the bearer of bad news
Dressed in a black cloak, with a solemn look
Like satans child, the angel of death
Announced her misfortune with pomp n show
Sliced up her heart with his golden scythe...
===
She went back in and stared at the wall
The coffe still brewing, like time had stalled
She looked at the wall clock - let out a sigh
Those who are born are meant to die
She swallowed the pill as bitter as it was
And joined her beloved in celestial calm
=========================================================
Very random stuff...tried to make a story...writers road block got the better of me...turned out not so much as I had planned...
10 comments:
interesting.....although i have to point out...of the majority of your posts...its often that they are of melancholy and remorse.seems that the past you keep waiting for to turn around your present is fleeting away,desperately holding on...you have tried to imbibe changes having faith that things will end up being as you once thought they would be...
im going to leave this "Anonymous" because here we talk about you....and owing to your celebrity status its doubtful that anything else ruffles your feathers other than yourself...oh and by all means consider me gut-less...
we will talk later ;)
^ interesting comment there.
and a beautiful poem, nevertheless.
i hope you've moved on. because the only way to move is forward, as i've learned in a brief spate of time.
i'm sorry if it wasnt mutual. it rarely is.
all the best for the future. u can still cross over..
'the pansy'
are you the person about who so much has been written?
question is pertinent to understand all this.
ohkkk hold everything - lets get some things straight
@ anonymous
yea i agree with whatever u said about my previous posts and appreciate ur advice -- but if i paid heed to every bit of advice i was given i wouldnt be where i am - anyways "the pansy" has nothing to do with the poem - atleast not that i know of...it was just random
@the pansy
yea i'm doing good - cant say where i've moved but i certainly have moved - lifes looking good right now - not much can ruin it (i hope - *fingers crossed* )
well, if kapila says that the pansy had nothing to do with it, then so be it. i must've taken the wrong cue.
@ kapila.
i'm glad you've moved on. and i hope
nothing can ruin it as well. *fingers crossed*
@ kapila-
its puzzling to see that you have found an advice in my comment where i did'nt seem to have one.
@ the pansy-
i am certain that blatant upfront asking is not the trick of the day,for that my apologies.
Excellent stuff!
If this is what writers' road blocks do to the quality of your writing, then roadblocks be damned...I mean, blessed ;) Reminded me of Samuel Taylor Colleridge's 'The ryme of an ancient mariner'--especially your choice of words.
Regarding, the above comments and the course they took, I feel it's important to realize that what we experience, expands the horizon of what we become capable of imagining, and hence articulating, but no one does and should get suspended in those experiences. A work of fiction is as much admirable as it is a borne out of imagination. If I write a beautiful melancholic work when I'm happy, it's more admirable than when written under a bout of melancholia. If I've written a WORK FICTION LIKE--'Dog's death' (which I've written, by the way, and would love to have your comments), doesn't mean I have those kind of tendencies.
I'd long stopped writing poetry, but your work is inspiring me to do a rethink!
TC.
Brilliant! Powerful. But try to avoid the SMS lingo! Kind of disturbs the thought process. I don't know what that was supposed to mean but yeah avoid SMS lingo! Lol
Cheers!
@ ketan
Thanks alot for your brilliant insight...i was going to consider making my work less personal but then i realised even if i wrote about a plastic tea cup and a silver spoon "critics" would find bits of me in that also! Might I say I am beyond words to express how honoured I feel that my work reminded you of Colleridge
@Vish
Hehe sure I'll make a conscious effort to do that next time - I'm jus too used to it I guess...technology be damned!
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