concert of consciousness (Concert-I)
Dream has its own reality
in a concert. Slowly it
pries open the mind and time
with nature’s tools, bare instincts.
In the mind’s open prairie
the violinist blows away
a formless uncertainty.
Does it really matter that
you shall be leaving the hall
for a door and a closed lock
where keys fumble; the concert’s
lustrous brochure falls from hands?
Dream has its own reality
for a home whose key you lose
often enough. Then instinct
finds an alternate entrance.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
Soliloquy of no one in particular
( To David, whose Sunset photo inspired me in writing this)
Rose wine, the sky, poured and tasted before
you touch the dark green earth for a twilight
to walk. Actually you have taken
me for company and we forget the fact.
This is the way we once mislaid the mails
left them inside a book and regretted
for thirty more years. This is the way
we live together and forget that, too.
The rose wine sky drinks a path, green pasture,
two pedestrians and an old stray dog
driven by the keen hunger. You complain
to no one in particular that you
feel no desire to eat anymore.
Evening comes to an end. Night shuts the doors.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
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Comments: 97
That's so true, we've both been there. Yes, eventually you do have to or you destroy yourself.
I've had to force myself to eat as well.
I hope your Mom will be all right.
Hugs...
it's one thing to be abused, but to stay...that's worse to me. to die inside is worse than the abuse although the abuse is what causes you to unlove yourself.
Such a strong friendship. Forgetting the mail. Was the friendship lost?
soliloquy and sunset
"This is the way we have lived
Together and forgotten that too."
This is stark and directly speaks to the human heart. The wistfulness and experience in that line is profound. It makes me think of strained connections to the mainstays in our life such as family, friends, lovers, etc. As well, I found the image of "an old stray dog/driven by keen hunger" to be wonderfully concrete and suggestive of a variety of moods and symbols.
The first poem has strong moments too. Particularly, I think the idea of dreams having their own reality is a fine poetic idea with abiding value. Your explorations are grounded in concrete imagery except for two crucial moments - the line about a 'heartless uncertainty' and the use of the word 'instinct' at the poem's conclusion. Regarding the latter, the metaphor of instinct finding an alternate entrance when our typical channels into dreams are blocked is a strong metaphor. But what is this instinct? Is it the instinct that all humans feel to dream? Perhaps you might search for a better word than 'instinct', something that is less an idea and more of a concrete image. Likewise, I am not sure what this 'heartless uncertainty' is, though the phonetic power of the phrase is unquestionable. I offer these observations as a, I hope, discerning reader and certainly do not mean to offend.
Thanks for sharing these works with us! Your work never fails to strike a chord in me.
--- WOW, Kushal. Wish I thought of that! :)
Thanks Just me.
The first one, dreams can often be so real that we believe or almost believe as a parallel with our own lives.
The second one has been my life, a long time ago, not forgotten.
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Melancholy morning, no taste to the bread.
What I left behind was never lost,
but what was found was not what was lost,
The welling winds that never cease are often too far off,
The tiller's hand is lost in the mist,
along with the Captain's eyes,
until the ship turns away from the storm.
Only the lights on shore are dimming,
The mason first has to find the cornerstone,
then only to rebuild.
The watchtower has forgotten that others
are lost and found, beyond.
The far off are often in the storm,
as you well know the winds that rage,
are from a deep and rising sea,
that only those in the path are forewarned.
The boundaries are sans frontieres.
And as you know, my attentions are diverted from the cares of one shore,
to those who know only their own country.
Dano
damn Poddar~ you've jumpstarted my muse with these~
on a belief we don’t believe
on a belief we don’t believe
finds an alternate entrance.
There is always and alternate entrance. Life is like that. Superb work sir.
on a belief we don’t believe
on a belief we don’t believe
on a belief we don’t believe
on a belief we don’t believe
Thank you Ku, for another fine duet.
The Surreal Circus
I only touch your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand.
You're a stranger now unto me,
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
the borders of our lives.
"Dangling Conversation"
Paul Simon
Thank you Chris.
on a belief we don’t believe
on a belief we don’t believe
Food? Eat to live, do not live to eat.
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
This isn't another swing?
The style is not your style
in Poem 1 is that your thing?
Paranoid? Just for a while...
See more changed voices:
on a belief we don’t believe
This is the way we once mislaid the mails
left them inside a book and regretted
for thirty more years. This is the way
we live together and forget that, too.
This seems like a comparison of how are careless with certain things that matter and time passes anyway. Sobering. And sad.
to no one in particular that you
feel no desire to eat anymore.
We sometimes give up. But we shouldn't. Those who hunger will be filled.
A poignant snapshot of life, Poddar. You do these with aplomb!
I close doors in my mind of past things that I don’t like but can’t forget, but those closed doors never let any others know, only I.
Formless uncertainly? I used to live in the world of chaos, which I still love as chaos is in reality where it’s all at.
The second is a nice one.
Thanks KP for those two