It's that time again when I am going force some written lines which I like to call poetry upon you. But before that let me warn inform you that : Most of friends have labelled me to be a failure when it comes to poetry.Okay I accept that my poems seldom rhyme. But I feel that if one forces to make one line rhyme with another then the actual beauty of the piece gets spoiled and there is no law that says poems should rhyme , that against artistic freedom I think! So, I prefer to write in free verse; just to preserve the spontaneity. The following piece is one of my oldest compositions, I wrote it two years back one a cold December night. A very unfortunate incident which are an unfortunate part of growing up( read: heartache and headache) made me write this.
It may seem immature at parts but please bear with it. Thank you!
Why, Love, do you lie so low,
Beneath the shade of some forlorn
Withering tree? I see you lying
Motionless, numb to the world of the living;
Your soft white flesh, besmeared
With blood-still fresh and scarlet!
You are in pain and I am able to comprehend
Your agony. You are dying-
A slow agonizing death. As twilight’s
Mellow light falls on your countenance,
It shines with a deadly white pallor; a hue
Contrasted by the crimson blood flowing
From your numerous unhealed scars.
You have been raped: raped of your
Innocence. You lie, twisting in pain yet,
For all these turmoil, only you can be blamed!
Your wings are brutally maimed and your face is
Mutilated. Blood soaked white feathers flutter about!
Your scars confirm your unfortunate end.
Indeed, you were tossed and turned and turned around,
And brutally hurled back to the ground.
As I come closer, I realize that the warmth
Which I earlier felt in your presence has disappeared.
Instead an icy chill has taken has taken its place.
As I see my own reflection in your blood’s
Scarlet pool, I find my face, too, is scared-just like yours is.
My hands are also soaked in blood and I realize that I’m bleeding.
Perplexed, I look at your carrion figure.
And, as if only to answer my confusion, you raise your
Feeble head. Though scared and bloody, your grotesque face
Still has the remnants of your past charm and radiance. But,
Pain overwhelms you and contorts your beauty.
You part your lips, overcoming your agony. I see that you
Try to speak but your throat is choked with pain.
But, I hear a feeble whisper, carried by the idle wind.
I hear you whisper,” After all, Pain is Love without
Her wings.”
Forever and Always
Subhodeep "Noir" Sarkar
[Original Draft written in December 2009.]
It may seem immature at parts but please bear with it. Thank you!
Why, Love, do you lie so low,
Beneath the shade of some forlorn
Withering tree? I see you lying
Motionless, numb to the world of the living;
Your soft white flesh, besmeared
With blood-still fresh and scarlet!
You are in pain and I am able to comprehend
Your agony. You are dying-
A slow agonizing death. As twilight’s
Mellow light falls on your countenance,
It shines with a deadly white pallor; a hue
Contrasted by the crimson blood flowing
From your numerous unhealed scars.
You have been raped: raped of your
Innocence. You lie, twisting in pain yet,
For all these turmoil, only you can be blamed!
Your wings are brutally maimed and your face is
Mutilated. Blood soaked white feathers flutter about!
Your scars confirm your unfortunate end.
Indeed, you were tossed and turned and turned around,
And brutally hurled back to the ground.
As I come closer, I realize that the warmth
Which I earlier felt in your presence has disappeared.
Instead an icy chill has taken has taken its place.
As I see my own reflection in your blood’s
Scarlet pool, I find my face, too, is scared-just like yours is.
My hands are also soaked in blood and I realize that I’m bleeding.
Perplexed, I look at your carrion figure.
And, as if only to answer my confusion, you raise your
Feeble head. Though scared and bloody, your grotesque face
Still has the remnants of your past charm and radiance. But,
Pain overwhelms you and contorts your beauty.
You part your lips, overcoming your agony. I see that you
Try to speak but your throat is choked with pain.
But, I hear a feeble whisper, carried by the idle wind.
I hear you whisper,” After all, Pain is Love without
Her wings.”
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Is she Love without her wings?
P.S : Sorry I could not keep my promise about writing the book review or the story. spending the mornings devouring the newspapers instead of writing (I write well during late nights and early mornings).I'm working on it and its taking longer than I expected(ie, I am being more lazy than I ought to be! :P) and moreover, I felt like sharing this!
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Forever and Always
Subhodeep "Noir" Sarkar
[Original Draft written in December 2009.]
