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:
Thought-provoking.
Great piece! "Pyramids on page" love this!
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.
Oh. Duh! There is your name up above mine. Time for coffee, obviously!
You have a great ability to tie the person to his environment - something I always admire in your writing.
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.
Awesome display of word choice and mood. Your site is one of the best reads online, truly.
Brilliant kaleidoscopic landscape, yet always coming intimately forth from the private world of Abin, and Blake-provoked perhaps...
"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
"Reared in gardens of apple blossom days" yet scratching for those "miniscule moments of peace". An impassioned poem!
'these are my bricks for pyramids on page'-wow great....
Wish I could gift you some good old UK rain to fill your veins with gentle peace...
Your gritty words made good reading.
"drills little deserts in ribs" :)
Nice imagery.
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.
"tired of dredging my veins for miniscule moments of peace" Wow!! Feeling so much pain from this. Marvelous piece!!
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.
A beautiful poem on a serious subject.
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