See, I am practicing a secret art
The guiles of which I am going to let you into.
Its like communicating with the dead,
The seemingly non-existent
The apparent void
Laughing, loving,
Crying and screaming
In total silence.
I do not use Tarot cards
Not for me the crystal globe
The stuttering stove
The fluttering candle
Or the elevating table.
My medium - please do not laugh
Or give me that piteous contempt –
You see, I write poems in the internet.
My blog, ghostly pale,
Floats in the ether like a jellyfish
Stinging those who are curious,
With gentle stabs of love.
In silence, stultifying my soul,
Words stumble onto the white screen
Rearrange themselves like soldiers shuffling,
Stiff, in a parade before the march to death.
Immutable, impassive, they stare at me –
They are staring at me –
Soon, they will be gone –
Like untraceable bubbles
Into that ocean of words,
Of thoughts…
Friend, I submit
My words, unread, into the void
Writing for you,
I stare into the blank white screen
Where your reply will never appear…
******** Balachandran,
This, of course, was part of the 'cleansing' process, wasn't it? The trick is to go through it with total awareness, without sentiment. You work on sentiment for the sake of poetry, imagining that without it poetry is not. But the third poem in this spurt ('cleansing') gives me confidence. You are on the way. (I read these three in the reverse order).
ReplyDeleteGlad you caught on... :)
ReplyDeleteI 'utilise' emotions and sentiments... Reminds me of Jake & Bill in EH's Fiesta...
im in love wth ur similes and metaphors..they all r bewitching and thought provoking..u see,wen u say ur words stumble into white screen and rearrange thm ike soldiers shuffling,its nevr herd before but beautifully merging into..
ReplyDeleteits great.
@Extremity: I am standing back and looking at the process; perhaps one has to be detached from oneself to understand oneself!!
ReplyDelete