sundarramchand
03-23-2011, 04:24 AM
As I write this poem,.
I look at it
As if through a microscope
The quasi-crystalline tiling
Of the rhyme-less blank verse
Realizes a deep semantic rhythm
Like a serpent uncoiling
Like a courtesan “flexing” her assets ;
Flash of thigh;
Meaning unfolding organically
The beauty of a formula
The tragedy of unrequited love
The pathos of pity and
The delicate indulgence of self-pity
The wonder of a sunrise
The vague sense of déjà vu
Tender memories
Filled with nameless joys and dreads
The smell of morning coffee
The challenge of getting through the newspaper (and attempting the crossword)
The aroma of a well cooked Onion stew
With roasted and Fried potato
A quiet afternoon nap
Evening walk
Coffee at the café
Chat with friends
A Long island at the Sports bar
Delightful murmuring
Flow of conversations
In the rooms
Where the light is just right
And hence perfect
Staying late
Talk with the bouncer
Who happens to be female
Snuggle up in bed together cosily
Crackling fireplace
Watching the latest tender romance
Wake up in the morning
Wondering
What the heck happened to the poem ?
Suddenly I am pulled back into bed
By a pair of strong arms and legs
I guess life happened to the poem !!
Guess you know what I am talking about, right !!
Have a good day !!
I look at it
As if through a microscope
The quasi-crystalline tiling
Of the rhyme-less blank verse
Realizes a deep semantic rhythm
Like a serpent uncoiling
Like a courtesan “flexing” her assets ;
Flash of thigh;
Meaning unfolding organically
The beauty of a formula
The tragedy of unrequited love
The pathos of pity and
The delicate indulgence of self-pity
The wonder of a sunrise
The vague sense of déjà vu
Tender memories
Filled with nameless joys and dreads
The smell of morning coffee
The challenge of getting through the newspaper (and attempting the crossword)
The aroma of a well cooked Onion stew
With roasted and Fried potato
A quiet afternoon nap
Evening walk
Coffee at the café
Chat with friends
A Long island at the Sports bar
Delightful murmuring
Flow of conversations
In the rooms
Where the light is just right
And hence perfect
Staying late
Talk with the bouncer
Who happens to be female
Snuggle up in bed together cosily
Crackling fireplace
Watching the latest tender romance
Wake up in the morning
Wondering
What the heck happened to the poem ?
Suddenly I am pulled back into bed
By a pair of strong arms and legs
I guess life happened to the poem !!
Guess you know what I am talking about, right !!
Have a good day !!