Saturday, June 23, 2012

Sands of Time


Polished on the whetstone of monsoon withheld,
The air now stabs at bones along spine
And drills little deserts in ribs.

Listen with intent and perhaps you’ll hear
Sand that oozes on banks of my veins
And heaps little dunes along shore.

Reared in gardens of apple-blossom days,
I am no Bedouin on steed.

Hence I am tired of dredging my veins
To search for miniscule moments of peace
Which still are drowned in barrels of sand,
Bare and barren to the core.

Resigned at last to my mummified state
These are my bricks for pyramids on page. 

17 comments:

Danny Earl Simmons said...

Thought-provoking.

Laura Maria said...

Great piece! "Pyramids on page" love this!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

WOW, Abin! "dredging my veins, to search for miniscule moments of peace." I didnt see you at the Pantry, so came to find you!!!!! Glad I did.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh. Duh! There is your name up above mine. Time for coffee, obviously!

Kerry O'Connor said...

You have a great ability to tie the person to his environment - something I always admire in your writing.

Mary said...

Miniscule moments of peace are, unfortunately, sometimes all we have, Abin! But I think that sand would get to me after a while. I always enjoy your poetry.

Jack said...

Awesome display of word choice and mood. Your site is one of the best reads online, truly.

Matthew John Davies said...

Brilliant kaleidoscopic landscape, yet always coming intimately forth from the private world of Abin, and Blake-provoked perhaps...

kaykuala said...

"Which still are drowned in barrels of sand,Bare and barren to the core"

Yes, we keep on searching for the ultimate but face obstacles along the way. Great take Abin!


Hank

Gemma Wiseman said...

"Reared in gardens of apple blossom days" yet scratching for those "miniscule moments of peace". An impassioned poem!

Sreeja said...

'these are my bricks for pyramids on page'-wow great....

Jinksy said...

Wish I could gift you some good old UK rain to fill your veins with gentle peace...
Your gritty words made good reading.

Karishma Shetty said...

"drills little deserts in ribs" :)
Nice imagery.

Cressida de Nova said...

The quest for peace is always with us. Some find it in meditation,some find it artificially in drugs, some find it in the contemplation of nature and some find it as the last nail is being driven into a coffin.

Susie Clevenger said...

"tired of dredging my veins for miniscule moments of peace" Wow!! Feeling so much pain from this. Marvelous piece!!

Laura said...

so many beautiful lines as always Abin...this caught my attention " I am tired of dredging my veins
To search for miniscule moments of peace
Which still are drowned in barrels of sand,
Bare and barren to the core." The image so clear, that drowning feeling, seeking tiny moments of peace.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

A beautiful poem on a serious subject.