the psalms of silence.

a collision
sans noise.
a rupture of tissues
sewn together
patterned and prim
neat.leveled.
measured and poured.
mixed with the finest of colours.
enhanced with liquor and art.
a hand that summons.
and talks to me.

pulling out all those dreams
gathering the reds
sifting through the blacks
i came across a cloth.
an inch long.
blue and white and sad and old.
..those were the colours he had worn
tortoise shell glasses
and lengths of white.
and a hoarse laughter
tinged with gold.

seeking my eyes with his own
brown.tiny.liquid and old
silent smiles and confidences.
reaching out with all his strength
to capture the essence of perfection.
wizened.desperate.wrinkled and old.

a broken wing.a bleeding wound
white coloured canvas;
flesh coloured mound

i never will know
the sweet-soft sound.
and the mystery of death and of stories retold.

the psalms of silence.
bronze figurines in snow.
and of dreams immortal
that have ceased to flow.

Comments

Carpe Diem... said…

the title...the alliteration of it is perfect....psalms of silence.. as alwez sorrow can get u soaring wid creativity..!!!

April 30, 2007 at 10:56 PM

Sincere seasons

a pool of mystic blue a parched sky and a pillar of strength changing the old ways of the earth planting new trees feeding.gently moulding. a slab of see-through glass and my Soul to give. I live and exist. You, love. anonymous singers and a sea of gold a tuneless whistle and a graceful bow. interlinked Fingers and curly Hair. the shadow of a Smile. the Eyes of a mystic. countless stars .and a green horizon. one, two or three..the numbers grow. a reed of music. and a jet plane. a quest for the truth. unsullied. a colour so new and pure. old habits DIE.Hard. crossing the threshold of thorns wiping the dust off those roads. a new path.new hopes. warm tingles at the base of a heart. someday it shall be so. painted roads and red alleys. humming the happy blues. an eye ,that nose.. a Red, red rose. And those little Words.. at the Harp.

crossroads

patience and letters dark and violent lending a helping hand to all who care flints in the eye.. roars of the sun catching every little laughter that burns old or new? or a garb ,all blue? yet ,a little ray of light seeps in through the cracks at dawn dusky feathers rattling all untrue this way or that? nothing ,ever, is true or certain.or big.or really new. white circles on a violet ground leaky wet , all brown. dripping.red.blood on his hands. and a four letter word aching to die.

going going gone...

long and dark ochre and brown. following every movement. with careless elegance. unruly curls. grazing your face. a crooked smile. going going gone. a decade of longing. doors unlocked. shores beckoning. geckos gliding on the bathroom wall. a generosity rarely seen. two little blocks of ice in the canteen and delhi. the ever reigning Queen. a Hull of glasses. far far away. waters and ships and glorious days. speeding by in a sailing ship. a mountain of confidences waiting to fly. but i know i shall have to ponder and cry. what realm of difference does it make? some tea,kind sir? or heavenly cake? yet the shadows of the past walk by. piercing through cries of the morrow. a future ,in wait. for you and me. eyes closed. a camouflage. an apparition of events and sweet smelling nights.

illusional reality

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