1
The morning sun warmed the dew
from the opening rosebud;
a bee visited the fragrant heart of the rose;
the breeze tumbled a petal to the water,
drifted the pale petal across the surface of the water.
You surprised me gently.
2
I thought – hoped – the emotional baggage
was safely in the locker,
just for once,
just overnight,
but like a Houdini homing pigeon
it came back,
like a smart missile locked in on thought patterns
it found the target,
penetrated the armour,
and suddenly
just after midnight
I knew how Cinderella felt,
her new world sucked back
through the vortex,
as the life we call real
returned.
The sun warmed the breeze tumbled and I was surprised to read such lovely poems thanks sir -10 anjali
Sir you write well...and i love the metaphor of memories like guided missiles..... but you have stopped commenting on my poems...i would love to hear from you once again
This poem speaks to me - I have been the girl on the other end of that gross intrusion of reality. 'but like a Houdini homing pigeon it came back, like a smart missile locked in on thought patterns it found the target, ' This imagery I especially like.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The morning sun warmed the dew from the opening rosebud; a bee visited the fragrant heart of the rose; the breeze tumbled a petal to the water, drifted the pale petal across the surface of the water. You surprised me gently. the best love story i've ever read! i salute you, sir...