Jumbles Poem by Sumana Bhadra

The ink slithers onto the paper
Contorting into some not-so-pleasant words.
Absurd clusters of letters-
Skeletal frames to absurder thoughts
That rush out like a mad crowd,
Shapeshifting strangely into the most unusual forms
As they jump off the precipice of my mind
Into the valley of untidily scattered papers below.

Ugly scribbles!
Black blotches of ink!
Not an ounce of sense to be found.
They weren't WORDS up there in my head!
They were something else.
Like a thousand mumbling voices of invisible ghosts
Having neverending chats about strange this and that
In their snug little graves, in the dark catacombs of my mind.
Like a muffled opera
Playing oft-changing notes
Of the strangest drums and flutes.
Like a palette
Where memories and voices from my heart
Blended up in never-before-seen shades-
Up there, I tell you, they sure were something else!

And now vacuumed out of their safe haven
They lay like bare, unclothed bodies
Strewn carelessly on my murky yellow papers,
Denting them with oddly shaped bulges.
I stare hard at my papers-
At my words with their illogical arrangements-
And I burn them.