i feel a feverish pulsation
pass through my veins
as i look at each word
uttered or unuttered
placed in the cup of my palm
bound by time, the
words disintegrate
and each letter
slips and slides
into a timeless space
mostly never to return…
i crack under the weight
of the silence they leave behind
but
the ones that return
to the warmth of my palm
are drained of the pulsating
passion and boomerang to
attack me with the
ferocity of a wounded lion
filled with compassion at
their helpless act of defense
i hug the poor rag-doll letters
weary after a futile journey…
i fold these letters in compassion
and i shelter them
on my soft lap
…the wounded-wing letters
fallen midflight to a cruel arrow
17sep2009
15.29hrs
ohh....this poem is awfully awesome maam. tremendous.....simply tremendous write. ahh....amazing. i just loved it. absolutely. thank you very much....very much.
many parts to go with this piece.. all superb.
Words are ‘quick-sand’ nimble and fugitive at diffrent times and meanings Great write ten dr.sakti Cordially invite to my page. ds
Letters were the mainstream communication medium in my good old school days too... I still have each one carefully archived as if they were antique treasures. I read them over again and again to re-live those wonderful moments. You have wonderfully presented the effect it produces. Liked this verse the most '........and boomerang to attack me with the ferocity of a wounded lion'
Beautiful write.Letters make it possible to touch souls with rare human beings.I refuse to believe that penning them is a lost art. Love, Sandra
Letters are an interesting theme, are they not? Have you read my three-poem sequence on the same theme uploaded some time ago?
but the ones that return to the warmth of my palm are drained of the pulsating passion and boomerang to attack me with the ferocity of a wounded lion Rachel Ann Butler
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Maybe, it happens to be one of your best creations, indira!