Sunday, August 12, 2007

Shyamli's poems coming up as one, two, three....

These 3 poems have been edited quite ruthlessly like Aditi's 3 posted down below.

Love not these shoulders
Love not my eyes
What beneath me lies.

Love not this abysmal
FARCE of a world
Love not yourself
Let your beauty be spurned.

As, what use is your heart,
if your mind be lost
to the Dominion
of the Meaningless??

What use is MEANING
if the senses have lost
their touch??

And what use is Touch
if ONLY to crush
my plush, rose-bed
when the sand man calls

"What have you become?
You are not yourself, it seems."

NO! Turn your back
to the taunting calls
the arrow bearer plays.
This is your chance, run away.

Run, my child,
in the darkness
of apathy stay.

Be not anything but afraid.

Wait now.
Sit apprehensively still.
I come your way

having had nothing to love.

Insanity, hov'ring reassuringly,
far above.


The Dull Resonating Thud

I was kept awake all night by a certain beat in my mind... and I kept trying to hear the strains of melody that my psyche seemed to be orchestrating for me.
I am sick.
In ways and measures beyond cure.
I am not lonely... or upset... or distressed... I am.
I like the way the silence shrieks madly all around me... I'm happy just to be found by my long lost, wandering senses... I'd be happier if I lose them again.
This is a strange plea for me to left alone... thud.
For me to find IT again. Thud.
For you to love me. Thud.
For that freedom I have sought. And almost thud...

Last time's effort:

Follow the stars on a moonless night,
glimmering, gimbling globs of light;
let your nonchalant gaze
not bother my world,
as I sit and watch
my kingdom unfurl.

Let not these proceedings
disturb your mind.
We are all here but to unwind,
to rest and clear our souls;
to abscond our shallow,
mindless moulds.
These shadowy creatures
are my mumbling friends.
They live down yonder,
where the hilly roads bend;

And atop that mount,
floating wayward
crouches a man,
watching o’er his herd,
cackling now,
as my thoughts go astray
trudging the speckled rainy day.
Breathe in deep,
and I shall breathe with thee,
laughing, sighing
and moaning in glee.

Things unsaid resound within,
rising like the static storms.
In a whirlwind.
all known and feared,
is erased.
I live and dream
lost in time.
in this world,
where I'm but a mime.

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