Thursday, 30 May 2013

We Won the War

We Won the War

I cant think of what to write
So I will just look at these specks of life
Splattered on the moldy walls that you and
I once moulded from love, I think that would suffice.
From behind these dust laden curtains,
I will listen to our whispers that couldn't escape
Through these shattered windowpanes, so much
Louder than those cannons that draped
The sky in grey, preparing it to mourn.

I cant think of what to write
So I will sit crouched over this charred
Patch of grass on which you kissed me goodbye
That last lingering touch before you rode away, so far.
This ruined porch looks familiar,hidden under the pile
Of the parched leaves that shone like embers
They still do, only, no one to sweep them away.
What does it matter, when their perfume cannot be exiled
By the thickest fumes of gunpowder that choked 
The air, moments before you were gone.

Friday, 24 May 2013

Princess of the Gilded Castle

Princess of the Gilded Castle

She opened her little box
Of trinkets red, blue and green
She prodded them adoringly once
As if to make sure they weren't excerpts of a daydream
Then her eyes danced mischievously
Her little girl eyes
Her pretty girl eyes
She opened her box for pleasure
At the sight of her long coveted treasures

She opened her little box
Which wasn't so little anymore.
Across the bright hued gems matching her
Wedding ring, she ran her finger that was sore.
Then the dregs of laughter shone in her eyes
Her tired girl eyes
Her pretty girl eyes
She opened her box to distract herself
By plunging into a game that had kept her happy.

She opened her little box
It was quite heavy after all these years
Its lavish, loveless contents and their grim glitter
Were reflected on her face, moist from tears
She wiped them and smiled; it didn't touch her eyes
Her empty girl eyes
Her pretty girl eyes
She opened her box to console herself
Because clutched in her wrinkled palms that box, was all she had left.

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Tuesday, 7 May 2013

Receding Winter

 Receding Winter

Tonight I will sit here by this ragged railing. 

I can see you pace around your room, your clumsy arms groping 
Around, your face set in that familiar frown.
Do you know my darling, that i'm standing here holding up a candle?
So that you don't trip over those little things that I know you've left lying around.

I know what you're thinking of.

Our sun-kissed Saturday mornings.
French toast off those hideous purple paper plates.
Sleazy songs on the antique newly-repaired radio.
Running barefoot on the un-mowed dew drenched grass.

I liked all that; you are so easy to love.

Now you're thinking of those hot, sticky nights that we stayed up to talk, 
while we stared at the green and grey moths whirring closer and closer to the dull lampshade.
I had winced, you'd wanted to keep them as pets. Then we'd talked.

About skimming stones from a lighthouse and eating half molten bourbon biscuits,
About the music of old cuckoo clocks, and the uses of orange zest.
About french pronunciations and the cutest cats of the neighborhood
About distant eccentric aunts and their eccentric bequests.

We had laughed a lot then, the curtains stirred from our laughter.

Now I know your mind will turn to those blue-green hills that we went to, streaked with rain.
You are so poetic, I could not help loving you when you asked me,
'What do these trees talk about, locked in their complex tangles?
Where do these birds bury their dead kin?
What scuttled behind that intricate rustle of bright hued bush?'
Where your childlike questions ended, there did my far-fetched answers begin.

Now you'll shake your head in tiny, nervous shakes, and
Look down at this railing across which we'd smiled at each other for the first time.
You'll blink rapidly to check if its really me you're looking at again.
Then you'll bite your lip, scratch your head and smile, tentatively first,
Then right to the depths of your chocolate eyes.
I'll smile back, wont i?