Wednesday, October 20, 2010

October Blues

Blues catch like cold (but untold and forlorn).
And you sniffle a little, then freeze into stone
On your park bench where (flaming and swirling around)
The leaves that don’t touch you will rain on to ground;
Till the children and housewives and candyfloss men
With their lazy cries, crazy lies save you again.

10 comments:

Arse Poetica. said...

back.

i love.

you. and. your poetry.

Arse Poetica. said...

but why did you delete the poem for me? :(

Monidipa said...

Didn't delete, turned it back into draft. It was too direct. Not stuff for this blog. Had put it up here because at that time there wasn't another blog.

atindriyo said...

hazy eyes

Elendil said...

I read this a while ago, but I'm commenting now.

This is nice. But it's time you wrote a really epic one. I mean like the old ones, a bit longer, full of intense emotion and blazing imagery.

Course, I get where you're coming from in this poem. Spells of the blues are generally not conducive to writing. Intense pain and suffering, yes. Depression, no.

Antara said...

I love. And understand, a little.

Antara said...

Back again. See you here?

www.notlostnotyet.blogspot.com

Sayandeep Kundu said...

Hello, just stopped by your blog. Loved this piece of poetry...awesome....striking imagery..

Regards~ Sayandeep

Rehab said...

Please write more...this is a gorgeous piece of poetry

the feeling lioness said...

your poems got a fresh smell..aah...