I
What was above the bed?
The empty ceiling sheilding more questions
lying beyond in the hermit sky.
What was under the bed?
The dead cockroach flakes
warm at peace.
II
Residue of exhausted lungs
Like Periwinkles on your doormat
Too dear to discard that
You silently elbow them
With closed eyes.
III
Donot claw at the dust
Leaves grain in your nails
Look straight, keep staring
Until the dawn sweeps in
Its blinding light
And you become numb
With fresh air.
3 comments:
End Semester Exaamination
Sub: Indian Literature
Time: 3 hrs
.
.
.
.
Q. Comment on the imagery used in Raval's poem "Lesser words, more images" (15 marks)
.
.
.
Future generations are already weeping ;_; :P
The Dawn is blinding
The dust settled stirred up by morning and the many feet and exhaust pipes that come to life in its wake.
The night air is fresher. It breaths.
@ Srikeit... don't worry. Whitman and gang taught me my lessons. Too much poetry is criticism now and to saw, meld, glue etc is not my job :) best wishes to your future generations :)
@ Sam... It is raw like morning milk. Such hours are spent in helpless poetry
Post a Comment