evenings and winter chapel bellslong lost dusty feet
return home
on a foggy blue noon
the silly dance and celebrations
choke them to death
no footsteps to traceback the homecoming
no shattered glasses and
the smell of cheap liquor
no beaten backs with rashes
no moaning
no gathering
not even the usual flies
what do we call them
the mourning flies?
I guess let them be the yellow butterflies
not even them to show her lost presence
what could he hold on to afterall?
he rushed back with the mad dance
and took with him the mad, celebrating loneliness
this time
careful to leave back a few tiered footsteps
atleast she if she comes back,
Marichiko could trace him back...
but suddenly the wish dies
and withers in the dusty corners
silent, ages
and pales
and dies again
he looks back for it
and asks
did you keep it safe?
6 comments:
Remedios and her secret lover embrace amid the yellow butterflies.
*sigh*
nice.
so you got it there... :)
hey cool
Really neat piece of expression, imaginative
and yes with the presence of the everpresent loyal marichiko,
yes it shall be kept in safe hands
only if in twisted crooked hands in twistier and more crooked lanes of woeful recollections...
It is a lovely write...It gives me immense satisfaction when I read some of your such poems, and at times I feel, if I have lost you somewhere in your transition....
Just tell me what Marichiko means...
Marichiko...do not really know something about women and rivers or beaches...something like that I guess...had read in one of Tukun da's and loved the name since them stuck to it
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