The Sky Comes Down Poem by Neela Nath Das
The Sky Comes Down
Down and down
the sky comes.
The sky comes down
with its hollow blackness.
No air passes.
Blue disappears....
The clouds,
the birds,
the sunlight
are wiped out
from its canvas.
The brushes,
color tubes
are thrown.
One drop
of frozen dew
falls on earth's floor
from its burnt corner.
All the pictures come back
to complete the scenery.
But, one must say it is,
a hackneyed monochrome.
I agree the old divine painting is a a monochrome, we have made painted from our preferred colors pictures of our own thoughts, but the cycle is continued and just a drop of nature will wash away all of our paintings. The canvas will be ready for a new love affair. But this is not the question, the question is whether we shall be included in the list of new painters or not? Whether some of us will be selected and some of us will be rejected? All religions say good painters will get another opportunity. What do you say Neela? Think and reply. You are a nice thinker and a nice poetess as well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 1:10:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Well.At first thanks for leaving a thoughtful comment on this poem.Sir, I believe in readers' response theory.You have every right to throw light from your personal point of view.My opinion is that what appears interesting to Jack, may not attract Jim in the same way.This is not after all, a subjective poem.