torrent; rivulets collide on panes,
within, two wayward tributaries
coalesce into one decisive stream,
words we wonderingly recite,
ornate, now and then boldly archaic;
have a lingering stately pace,
on occasion halting altogether,
like a turn in dance, or rest in a march
it’s not the July torch spilling sweat -
it’s our conflagration, invading,
heaping up a pyre of love
in this room with the shut door,
out of which stutters the unsteady
nightly tappings of a duet,
spiteful mutterings and garbles
replace the coarse lovemaking;
we invoke secret spells, maledictions;
when the guttural tardy thunder
miles away, throws us into a daze
we leave; as numb as
a walk away from the funeral of
someone we dearly loved -
bereft and spent.
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well--hello! ... and here you are writing again.
this does feel right... the turning point, the build-up...
and then... "not with a bang, but a whimper".
yes. damn glad you're Back.
Perry Strange said...
July 20, 2009 3:18 PM
Why hate????? This is so very well written......I'm stumped at the title!
Rakesh Vanamali said...
July 20, 2009 10:17 PM
We are not God. So lament if you want to.... curse, swear, display anger, get irritated...
But then please come back and write.. It heals.. Doesnt it?
:)
Regards,
Ashen
AshenGlow said...
July 21, 2009 6:17 AM
Perry .. Thank you. I am glad it feels right. I am kinda rusty for the moment but the company of words is soothing as ever.
Rakesh .. it was intended to be a spiteful verse. :) I'm glad you liked. Thank you.
Ashen .. you said it! It does and then these veritable fiascoes are the spice of life. Thanks much .. :)
aria said...
July 21, 2009 9:22 PM
a walk away from the funeral of
someone we dearly loved -
bereft and spent.
think i love these lines...
d gypsy! said...
July 22, 2009 6:39 AM
Thank you Neha. I'd thought of that last line first and then based the entire crap on that ! heh
aria said...
July 24, 2009 8:26 AM