~ Words, they once Walked ~
Lo! They limp,
Self-inflicted ..
God Forbid,
The deaths before
survival,
Scalding,
Scorching,
Challenging,
The route they choose,
of no choice,
Before thy eyes, they
shall float,
Black, bold, thick,
thin, long, short, curvy, straight …
Broken … Unused …
Placidly, they may lie,
may have to, for a while,
Before lifting their
head in agony, in hope,
Prosing,
Preaching,
Probing,
Sniggering,
Puckering,
Prodding,
Bickering,
Plaguing,
Crawling on a limp,
one-half of it, only even,
Screeching,
Leeching,
Prying,
Breaching,
Banging the door with
head,
Cupped hands dripping
with leprosy …
Throbbing door, painted
in fresh red,
Does answer in a dry as
a bone - No …
Repugnance,
Penance,
Self-Purged,
Death …
Strewn on the new blue
rug,
Dead ‘untrodden’
leaves,
Never so dead!
smiles...dont press them too much...they will find their way when they are good and ready...grab a pen and be ready...give them something to work with...drink deep life...
ReplyDeleteLet it find its own ease, to open, a yes from the mighty creator, to let them float in, with the wind. The creator hardly gives us a choice, but gives, on his own, when wishes. Intense poem.
ReplyDeleteI personally think that if we let the words come to us, as opposed to us seeking them, it ends up happening naturally. Amazing poem again Sadia.
ReplyDeletethe mighty words... they r something arnt they??
ReplyDelete