a red pearl on a string
It would be a pearl, the wise ones solace,
to be worn by a lady who knows
how to wear them to her advantage,
how to outshine the creases of age.
Then she grows up and still it causes
an obscure uneasiness; she dreams
often of a red, blood red, round pearl.
And then, consciousness envelopes it.
Busy days, dead mother’s cold bed or
the events of falling in and out
of the traps; still, sometimes she can feel
a swelling on her nights, a red pearl.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
Thicker dreams
The kind of dream where you get hurt
yet you do not want to be rescued,
prolongs, lengthens; through it you shop
simple wishes, autographs of stars
or favorite dresses you can’t buy.
Touch those items, floating illusions.
They come after you check every locks
windows and kittens; adjust the bed;
pillow up the dreams. They come. They burn
pssss… their ephemeras abruptly end.
The kind of dream where a distant star
wears the carapace of a poet
and shies under a cloak of dark cloud.
You remember your dead uncle’s little
eccentric notes on a blue diary.
Those words become stained with blood. Blood forms
a stillborn. Your womb swells once more; glows
once more; you dream of a conception
once more and stars guide us towards you.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
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Comments: 82
wears the carapace of a poet
and shies under a cloak of dark cloud."
The second reminded me of a dream I had of a white wolfe taking my arm in his teeth even though I knew he had touched bone saw blood but felt nothing.
Both Red Pearl On A String and Thicker Dreams brought a flash vision of bright red against white.
The first a woman who has aged and thrived
The second a child who was lost but might be found again
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
I say, goodbye and
I say, goodbye and
I say, goodbye and
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
I say, goodbye and
I enjoy the comments and insights arrived at about your beautiful poems. Your work continues to evolve Ku. Thank you, The Surreal Circus
I say, goodbye and
They're both very deep and we can probably all relate in different ways.
OK, you two, what's with the monkeys -- I don't actually want to know, but for some reason, monkeys hate me and our son too. TRUE. We'd taken him to Santa's land when he was little and there was a monkey that went nuts when he saw me, tried to get out of the cage to attack me! I don't know why. I tried talking to it and all that, but this was awful, the people that worked there asked me to leave before he broke out of the cage and killed me!
Then, we had a teeny place here in CT, Dave was little, so we took him, though they didn't have many animals, they had a monkey. SAME REACTION. To this little kid. The things was running the length of his run in the cage and it was long, and trying to get him. We got out of there.
So, do tell, why do monkeys hate us? (you're freaking me out here)
Marilyn
I say, goodbye and
I say, goodbye and
I say, goodbye and
I say, goodbye and
nice indeed, action in the present tense
very well crafted