in the inky depth of that pool
I feel safe from immeasurable flames
I yearn for your breath
that breath you stole from me
in the guise of sleep in the waking hours.
oh, it is just a dream-
why did I allow it to erode me?
I pull the sheet closer still,
forgetting myth from truth.
I put on a mask again
throw a clay pebble into that imaginary pool
no one will allow bend the rules-
except you. except you.
that breath I need to keep in hiding-
leave it on the doormat on your way out
"time just moves on with its own pace,
unwavering about the aftermath-
uncaring about what to come."
scented tentacles of alluring spices,
do they make your mouth water?
I have built a fence with bricks,
now I hide in that tastefully decorated
tasteless kitchen so that I won't cheat.
nothing is left for me-
everything tastes like gravel-
I seem to wallow in trash.
I precisely measure out portions-
that balance that you gifted to me
occupies a place of pride.
my cooking is an amalgam-
created in a vacant space,
with no spark in sight.
"no one notices the efforts of my dieting
yet when I die, I will weigh much less"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Afterthought@10/21/13: This poem is NOT about me. I am definitely not into dieting. I believe in keeping healthy by proper nutrition and exercising. I am posting couple of pictures of myself....
my world is inside the binds
it is expected when one has a drunkard owner
I was born outside
thunder brought me in
I want to know
what prophet said that I have to care for a sleepy person
but yes I hold all the trumps
when my owner moves in circles
he is on edge not I
life outside of that fence may be full of adventure
but within the walls I am the master
when he will finally be sober
and mends that fence
I will jump out and seen no more
"yes, you see, I can jump that fence
but I choose not to do it now
because the leaves and weeds keep me enthralled"
 |
| image by crilleb50 |
what secret do the clocks hide-
last I looked they blinked at me
such clever gesture on their part
I want to look at the stars
but I look down hiding my face
where will I nest in my twilight years
time does not let me know
hour hand of one of the clocks has swept away the cobwebs
I am now a basket case
my flesh ripe for picking
think what you may
I cannot leave the cliches to chance
don't let it be said
I saw all and never conquered
"the weeds will die under my walking stick
I would be left here, my bio carved in stone"
