Friday, December 10, 2010

Longing for Dead moon





Holding the agony of a captive......
lone fugitive bird....
sleeping on the smoky bed of combusted eyes...
clutches he the contact of dead moon....
wears a grin... 
seeing the lost faces... 
and on those faces... 
drops of sweat as nostalgia... 
falsely making mirage of wavy sea.... 

suddenly dead moon turns into a black shadow.... 
and falling from the clutch hides somewhere.... 
only makes a lot tears to fall....... 
which neither has definition nor passion..... 
only vanishes in vacant air.... 
as a scream beneath somberly sleep... 

slowly the earth under the foot moistens.... 
flooded with mist...... 
that dampness more and more...... 
becomes vast ocean........ 
and the brightness of sky...... 
turns into millions of clustering stars ......... 
on the lap of grand void... 
waking up together........ 
if the combusted eyes now would be ashes...
and the ground beneath foot 
would crash into........ 
some grand hole in the unfathomable sea....... ! 

shameless moon awakes then....... 
calls from sky waving his hands...... 
to his land of chill... 
pulling the hands takes to a little way....... 
towards the windows...... 
but the feet deformed from yore......... 
buried in an unknown pond.... 
or might be under false sand...... 
only the hands still remains with the moon.. 
outside the windows forever..........

3 comments:

  1. stunning write.
    Glad to see you link to poetry potluck.
    have fun!

    ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beautiful and melancholy "Under false sand" Loved this.

    ReplyDelete