I don't know why I'm writing this down.
I made these stars and put
them in your eyes so that they
sparkle when they gaze at me and I
can feel a little like a goddess.
This is a bit like confession, and
it's stupid because I can't
rhyme or reason or create
coherence for all to see all I
do is shuffle these pictures in my mind - a
dark brown foot in a neon-lit room perhaps
or the curve of a smile.
If I asked you to yield all your secrets
what would you show me? Would you
show me the rawness of sinew the bleak-
ness of thoughts would you shatter
away all walls and suck me in so deep so
deep that all that remains of me is a
tint in your blood a tune
in your head that you cannot
hum cannot forget?
This is a bit like confession and it's
meaningless really like when you drop to
your knees in the rain hands clasped in fervent
prayer although you never knew a god
or scripture, you make up the words as if
words were your only escape, a hopeless
poet without a purpose, a child
with nowhere to go.
And the abyss gazes into you then and you
become a little like the abyss and then
a little more and what's
wrong in that is it that you cannot
break into flowers anymore?
This is the bit like confession and
it's absurd because I look for
songs in crashing silence because this
flesh requires no words no music no rhythm
in iridiscence
in bursting in flames like insane super-
novas they
need not create
art.
And love is just a four-letter word and
so is fuck and so is fool how far
did you believe in those stories they
told you as a kid what
is it that makes you sleep now?
And so, you know, this
is a bit like confession but it's
made to make no sense to you
or you or anyone of you, I
don't know why I'm writing
this down
at all.
21 comments:
I just have no words for this. You outdo yourself with every poem. This is fucking brilliant. I think you should publish your poetry, really. You're best poet I know in person.
You write few and far between, poetess, but they are worth the wait. And poems cannot be manufactured, they say, as in assembly lines.......but only conjured out of thin air or poured out of a troubled heart or scribbled by a mind crowding with creative coruscations.
'Tint in your blood......tune in your head'....Brilliant!!!
I've read the poem thrice and the verses shuffle themselves randomly in my mind everytime, almost like the pictures in your mind. and the feeling of being sucked in and let out keeps repeating itself.
'you make up the words as if
words were your only escape'
so true!
Scansion exercises got to you? :P
I don't know what to say.
I love it :)
ditto to every one of the above comments, i'm just lost for words. But i love these the most...
"I made these stars and put
them in your eyes so that they
sparkle when they gaze at me and I
can feel a little like a goddess."
i can really feel this.
I really dunno what to say...its too beautiful for any word i can think of!
This is the bit like confession and
''it's absurd because I look for
songs in crashing silence because this
flesh requires no words no music no rhythm
in iridiscence
in bursting in flames like insane super-
novas they
need not create
art''
gives it some sort of a high..this one.
u do strange things u know..to this should-i-say-entity called poetry and worth the wait..always!
And I keep on re-reading.
please write to magazines and get this stuff published.
everytime I read your poems I find myself groping for words! How can you write this well?your poems play inside my head! beautiful!
*silence*
i fumble for cliches and platitudes
but what i need to convey
is gratitude...
continue, wontcha!
it reads like a dream. lovely.
I've never liked poetry. These are "words not intended to be poetry", so I guess that still holds true..but this is absolutely beautiful. [I was going to add a few more superlatives but absolutely, amazingly, brilliantly beautiful did not sound right.]
i am amazed. and humbled. Gladly so, for such beauty was worth humbling.
i could not stop interrupting to say...Monidipa u r a genious...
u still have the 16yr old magic trapped in ur poems... i do still remember about The Desert Sycamore
its brilliant...makes me jealous at times
confessions do not make sense to me, ever and the reason why i write is that i have to, not for you or you or you, but for the me within me...
I'm so glad I found your blog, beautiful poetry, raw. x
i don't know why you wrote it down, either, but it sucked me right in.
"I made these stars and put
them in your eyes so that they
sparkle when they gaze at me and I
can feel a little like a goddess."
These words have been running over and over in my head since i first read this.
you've left me speechless.
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