Saturday, May 30, 2009

unfinished poetry.

i started writing this poem in april and then moved on to other things. i don't think i'll be able to return to it any more, so for whatever it's worth, here:


Of all that hold me accused, this
I know: my youth is spent 
on strangers. I have flung my
heart at tramps and travelling soldiers,
wayward boys under lamplights, greying
men at railstations with their
untold lives of embers and sweetness 
and sorrow.



Mamma mia! Me a mamma? said...

As always, beautifully written.

Yes, it does seem unfinished, but then that is a quality some songs (and poems)delight in.

You never know when a poem will have lived a kittle bit more to finish itself.

So, until such time, we wait...

kama said...

I have quite a few of those poems that I never managed to finish and that in the end, I cut down to just 4 lines and put them up there, in the public. I think they have a different feel of 'unfinishness', of always looking, of an about completion that is never complete and I like that.

Mer-curial-maiden said...

It's as finished as a poem ever gets :)

love the enjambment.
heart, wayward, men, untold. <3

Amazing Greys said...

Unfinished, but beautiful.
Has a very Leonard Cohen like quality to it, loved that. :)

The Rainmaker said...

you sound dejected.... your youth is definitely not over! of all things, youth is something that is eternal....cheer up!


poorna said...

tui tor jibon bhor chheleder jonno hediye morli??

Death On Two Legs said...

Your poetry flows really well. And is rather ambient :)

Atrisa said...

Who's to say what's complete or not. Life hasn't ended, has it?

Beautiful indeterminacy, the best works suggest endlessness.

Sayandeep Kundu said...

Just like the unfinished quest of our life..amazing. :)
Regards~ Sayandeep