words of music glued to me

I am wearing the words of music
notes reverberate in my mind
screen doors watch silently
I throw the wilted flowers
on the earthy ground
someone will come and pick up those
scents of elusive nostalgia will assail him
giving rise to a storm.
that storm which you left behind
along with that felted quilt
I lie on it once in a while but it has no warmth
you took that with you
leaving the notes of music
wrapped in my body for eternity

drowning words

image by Manu Pombrol

eyes fixed on the book
I sit in bottled sea
reminiscing about squandered time
green moss follows me
creating a stormy lane in the confined space
if it had been a pewter container
I would have hidden from your prying eyes
but now I am in an intractable alley
elusive in my indignity;
flocks of thoughts chase me,
beating on the walls of my mind

"I am forced to accommodated my naked being, 
don't you dare comment on it."

........

Writing after three weeks. I am just happy to be able to do so. For now.

speckled

buried in the yolk
my marrow soaks in blood.
in the staggering dusk,
I come out of the broken shell.
songs of the clouds
lead me to my mate;
a story of sorrows
untold yet known.

"how do I break free of that addiction to my destiny?
puppy looks on piteously, a treat for it"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been three weeks since I posted anything here. My muse seems to have totally disappeared. 

wrench my dreams

hidden beneath the ground
I found the gears
a miracle
I watch myself out there
bending, keying
my hands so busy
what sources I seek
outside the hallways
what drives my gestures
yet I watch
previous forces are unknown now
I set limits to the inherent drama-
while I watch
I can also listen to my singing

"carry my whims, carry my dreams
naked, raw and so honest"

obscured

Image by Sarolta Ban

that hat shadows my eyes
as I look at the poster of my daughter
with overwhelming fullness in my heart
why has she gone underground?
my search has not ended
why is she unaware of my love
my concern?

when I look at her woolly mittens still on the kitchen table,
why did I admonish her for trivial issue?
now in this black and white world
I taste metal, sick metal.
I want everything returned to previous state.
I no longer care that she prefers to be herself
not what I want her to be.

"her coatless state in that picture is my answer"

wiring

under that table
you see wires, a terrible mess
dust laden, no end at sight
wires stringed together
unsightly, ugly

wireless or wired
connectors of the world
from one end to other
lurching into one another
shamelessly embracing

"then why am I left un-moored,
stuck to a wall?
If only I was a bubble gum"

rising onto the sky

she holds fairy dust in her hands
pressurised into a triangular glass
it cuts into her palm
that redness matches her blood
which she will collect in a glass tumbler
her body disappeared into the earth
only her hands are visible
like two peas in a pod
someone etched her anguish into a sculpture

I again sprinkle fairy dust
the depths of its blackness sparkles on me.   

etching into the epidermis

"if I could pull her out of the earth

I would have shared the sparkles"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two lines in the second stanza aren't mine. I thank Rey-mundo for those. I know he will read it.

gunned down

metallic sheen of that dart
fuses into a dubious scar
ruins send me into an exile
my rebellion streak saves me
your petulant smile revolts me
I hide behind billows of dust
latch of that trap door opens up for me
I fall down listening to staccato of guns

if there is a lesson in all this
I can't see it
it isn't a case of sour grapes
it is more like I lost my grip

"I am caught in the quagmire of war-
of words or bullets, I know not"

opposites

hidden by the fog
I walked blindly
chasing the road as if in a blind alley
sounds of chilly wind chased me
silence of my chilled heart propelled me
I stumbled in the cobbled path
fell down on my knees,
compelled to kiss the frosted earth

when I reached home
I didn't see the light at first
but seeing you sleeping so peacefully
I jumped on our bed
kissed the roof with glee
cool surface drove away my guilt
innocence of your love merged into me

"when you wake up
I will make up
until then I am going to figure out
how to stand upside down"

squiggles

Red Spot II, Wallisy Kandinsky

frozen in time
the squiggles are the cause of anguish for the earth
red splotch startles the serenity
electrifying field absorbs shocks
permeable pigments scatter randomly
why are there fresh prints of invisible feet?
in the pattern
lines encircle tapestry of dots

a flame is born out of blank canvas,
is it wrong to assume otherwise?