Monday, February 14, 2011

missing me

dust laden keyboard
will wait for my fingers
my laptop and my computer
won't blink again
journal of my life would be still
the streets won't see my feet again
banks will call and fall silent
in the closet
someone will find my hidden jewels
all my papers would be carefully scrutinized
but would I care,
would anyone care

hope someone misses my poetry,
and the reviews I write
but I know and you know,
nothing will change in this world
when I die 
that is what I wish-
no immortality after death.


Ramesh Sood said...


Bone said...

That was amazing, Gautami. So real, honest, and unguarded.

The first stanza, I've often had similar thoughts.

sage said...

These last three poems are have a similar theme. I like this one, but I hope pieces of you will continue on in your readers

Trulyfool said...


This doesn't strike me as a 'self-pity' poem at all.

This samples the chasm we might all face -- if we dared -- to speculate on 'not being'.

Talk about existential!

As with so many of yours, this raises thought and does so in interesting verbal combinations.


Madeleine Begun Kane said...

Wow! That's amazing indeed!

irene said...

We should all think about "what happens after i die". Thanks for writing about it! (First off, housekeeping, so others won't have to do for us)

Timoteo said...

Hope you're not leaving anytime soon!

moondustwriter said...

I think the thing that is sad is the unfinished work that is a writer's passion will just gather dust

Beautiful poetry for thought my dear
thanks for sharing with One Shot

Anonymous said...

Especially like the first stanza. I think it could stand on its own.

hedgewitch said...

Well put. Nothing morbid about it, or self-pitying, just realistic thoughts about inevitability. I like your last line especially.

Sarah said...

Precise. And un-sentimental. Not pitiable.

I enjoyed this. Thanks!

Judy Roney said...

Sobering and something I have thought about from time to time. I don't know that anyone would be interested and reading my "stuff" that is so important to me. Life goes on. :( Well done poem about something I bet all poets think about some time in their lives.

Margo Roby said...

Now this is an intriguing approach. I think you have inspired me to try something like this. I love the idea of what is left behind of us. Very nice, Gautami.

Anonymous said...

I disagree. Our poems are our immortality. That's why I keep on writing; quilting, too, so that something remains of me.

Elizabeth said...

Again, we are moving in similar ways. I think the dead woman/man poems lead to these kinds of thoughts and explorations. I was just discussing this with my oldest daughter a few days ago. I think most of us creatives eventually get here. You set an excellent example Gautami, thank you,


flaubert said...

I believe that you will leave
behind your beautiful words
when you pass, Gautami.


Bubba said...

Live fast, die young and leave behind a beautiful corpse and a pile of bills! LOL!

I'll settle for being remembered for a short time, which is more than anybody can ask.

Claudia said...

hmmm...someday my alto sax will get dusty as well..

Steve Isaak said...

Good use of images, good flow.

Elaine said...

Stirring and honest. I enjoyed reading this piece a lot.

Kavita said...

And to dust we all go... and our poems... and our wealth...
And yet, I am pretty sure there will be some iota of us that gets passed on to someone... but then again, that's just another thought in my dusty mind...

Well written, Gautami! Very powerful!

Tilly Bud said...

What's frightening - yet comforting - is that the world does go on without us. Nicely articulated.

Shashidhar Sharma said...

Dear Guatami

Beautiful.. so straight from the heart....

ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
Twitter @VerseEveryDay

Jerry said...

Wow, you pulled the nouns right out from under me. Truth in this is that we wish that it wasn't true and that words will have some staying power for someone...even if it is only one.