Monotone Poem by Ipsita Paul

Monotone



There may not always be subjects
Or, the sheer hypocrisy of a form.
But there's always convulsion in monotone.
Even the most explicit sky
Comes with the tail of a knocked-up rainbow.
The stack of clouds rules out
the humdrum sky over the horizon,
turning themselves into another
white streak of monotone in the end.
The river, the people devoid of life
and the lavishly thickened mud.
The constant frame of variable means.
But the radiance, venting out
through the same picture
differs from eye to eye, body to body
and mole to mole.
Which of the bodies can take in monotone
and make it immortal in the most articulate sense?
Can you make an incomplete boat ride whole
simply by waving to a total stranger?
Can you be red among blacks and whites?

Friday, October 12, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: life,monologue,musing,poem,poems
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Chinedu Dike 13 October 2018

Well articulated and nicely brought forth with insight. A beautiful creation. Thanks for sharing Ipsita

1 0 Reply
Ipsita Paul 14 October 2018

Thank you. Glad you liked it.

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