Memory is nothing but
a compound
a distillation
an essence
a coming together
seeping together
staying together
of everything
that the eyes drank
the skin tasted
the breath sang
the soul heard and never
forgot
and that is why
when breeze mixes with rain
you suddenly smell pine needles
and distant snow
and damp roses
and drops of dew
on wild grass…
right in the middle of
a traffic jammed city street..
Similar posts
Babel
March 1, 2019When identities With sharp piercing contours Wound and injure The ‘odd-men-out’ When free-speech or free- will Is mother of all sins; Don’t look at my words They are either not words, or Not mine anymore. Words, thrown at you, Pushed in your mouth, For gains unknown to you To pacify one, hurt another Unnerve you. […]
The Nymph
March 26, 2018There’s a tree in my neighbour’s garden And inside, I see a nymph. She’s trapped within That rough, grey bark. Frozen. Heart still beating, Eyes still seeing, Mind still racing. But they will slow soon too. Years later she will forget. Another form, she’ll take; A reverse metamorphosis Eyes still seeing Heart still beating. Only […]
Everywoman…
October 18, 2017The pain of men Is the crux of noir It’s why girlfriends Are found in fridges The pain of men Is stoic Quietly eats away at the men The pain of men Drives revenge epics Fuels classical tragedies The pain of men Ennobles, somehow The pain of women Is everyday Everywoman And when it is […]
Comments are closed
Lovely