Monday, June 24, 2013

Muse in White

On the borders with barbed wires
Stands a girl in white,
Hair flowing, eyes glowing
Little hands, on disputed lands
All morn long my heartache song
She sings and smiles.

So when she smiles and asks,
Is it me? Is it you?
I smile and say,
Such heartbreaks are few
For she on her guard,
With angry glass shards
She twists in my bones.

Cruel woman
Cruel gasoline bonfire
Harsh fences of barbed wire.
Your eyes-- the depth of a mine
Your lips-- ruby red sea line
Let me hold
Your morning dew
Which vanishes with sunlight.

She locks herself
Night and day
Maybe once smitten
Maybe once bitten
Her China jar soul
And a heart of gold
In the trunk she hides.
Time she bides,
As the seeker knocks and goes away.

The Armor of God
She wears all day
For frail is a word
She would hate to say.
The seeker curls,
Her fingers in hers,
Whispers his love in made up verse.

 Her cheeks aflame
Words' fire glows.
The light on her neck
A deep mole shows,
It calls for touch
It calls for thirst.
The seeker when he moved
She knew she was loved. 


Abin Chakraborty said...

ur lines move into surreal realms where I can hesitantly admire but cannot confidently comprehend.that responsibility isnt perhaps yours.but perhaps also as a reader,I can request a few more lights along the alleys of ur thought.and it is that confusion I guess which makes me wonder what the borders with barbed wires were all about.the tone and mood would've been the same without them.
I'm sure u wudnt misunderstand my concerns.still, let me also add, that as usual, some of the lines were fabulous. esp. the Pope-esque china jar soul.Keep up the new style, just light a few lamps for us.

sayan said...

i know what you mean..i was thinking..the barbed wires add a speck of situatedness to the woman in question. i'm not saying the barbed wire makes her all the more alluring or dificult to conquer. but maybe someone, who has spent her time in land besieged my territorial conflict and hatred, it is more difficult to believe in the virtues or even in the existence of a thing called love...