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Friday, January 20, 2012

Starting Over

If you thought I gave up writing and blogging altogether, I'm glad to announce that you're wrong :D.

I just had some pressing matters to deal with before they'd press me into a quicksand of problems.

If anyone likes this or is intrigued enough by it, please suggest a better name/title. Lets see if an entire year of doing poetry has rubbed off  or should be rubbed off :P

Starting Over


Sometimes.   
Sometimes she finds it very difficult to write.
When she puts pen to paper,
Thoughts fracture into vapour
Gliding past her, away from her,
                         

Floating above:  clouds that seem
Touchable if only you could tiptoe a little higher.
Like the memory of something, a taste 
devoid of a name to chew on; eyes that gleam
Open into frozen, depthless hollows.

They stand impassive: a twin watching the other.
Not to assist but to scoff, “You think we are
Worth a fraction of eternity, of someone’s precious
 Moment in time?  Relics that gather
Human ken amassed over a million years,

In a concentrated heartbeat?”  She mutters
“Maybe....” and it dies in their face of incredulity.
Resonance of trepidation in her voice, she flutters
Between a yes and a no. “Why not?” with renewed
courage she enquires. They announce


“Look at our construct. Tasteful phrases, sophistication
Of design, erudite allusions: are these the terms you would
Outfit us in?” “Perhaps....” “And yet, uncertainty
Colours your utterances.”, cutting off her contention
Into shards of probing silence.

“I trust in your merit above mine. I do”. They contort
Into a leer. “We are a likeness, a shade, a shadow,
A silhouette without essence, reflecting you. Only as 
Credible, as you are. You us I me they we, better not
To be. No questioning our ineffectuality."

Came the rejoinder echoing, debilitating the hope that
Nourished her dreams.  Empty, unending, vacuous, void. Until,
She traced her course back to the beginning-parchments
From the past inked with wit, crossed anew with faith  ,
And smudged with feeling, pregnant with possibilities,

Giving birth to a chuckle, the ghost of a smile
Somewhere. “Beauty is as beauty does, and you are stirred
Up from tranquil passion, making you me us
Worthwhile."
Shoring these fragments of hope against her ruins, she sighs and starts again.