Untitled

Boutique words on white page,
Invited or strangers
Noisy or chimed,
Ruffled or rhymed,
(of) novels they are -
trespassing, travelling, trolling.

Poems are virgins, men.
Useless in its property,
read and loved in shy lights
by humble eyes.

Silence is an amazon -
Deep, masculine, unsaid.
Like a woman it touches.

Poets die -
They depart on their four-legged sabbatical cot
as autumns come and winters stay.
Let frail leaves and dried ink count
unwritten poems.

-- (For Shakti and Sunil)

Comments

Cinderella said…
Glorious.

They (the words) juxtapose as though they were meant to be put together like that, by you. Like making love.

Usha Pisharody said…
This one tingles, it makes you sigh, and creeps unwittingly under the skin!

Beautiful close!

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