February 26, 2009

when the crow and the dryad spake...

(an attempt at free style poetry with Javits. For people like me, who haven't heard of the term- here is what you do:Each person writes two lines at a time. You name the poem in the end(which we forgot to do! :P)

He was brimming with words and verses that were so fresh in thought and vivid in imagery. I kind of spoilt it, I thought. But the exercise was beautiful, I must concede!

So here goes...The italicized words are mine and the ones that are in regular font are his. And yes, they are two separate untitled poems :D )

A dispensing machine and one paper cup;

You and I like the tea and coffee we want,

Brimming in our youth, sugar coated melody,

And violence topped with crème.

Staring at one another, staring at the machine

Choices, my dear, are always difficult to make!

Strung up like rusty violins and violets,

Simmering velvet affairs,

What is brewing within could perhaps

Tell us which brown liquid to have?

If instant kappi makes you happy,

Or chai, chai, elachi chai,

How the hell did two random people come to discuss,

The spoonfuls of sugar, in the cuppa they prefer,

And march away, never to care,

Forgotten burnt tongue,

Back to the moment, to this existential question,

Chai or coffee? Neither-nor, either-or?


Must we in the depths of our hearts,

Burn with desires to last another day, demanding

Or sweep away, back into the days of yore

Rustling through the leaves of time

In search of freedom, that can never be ours,

In search of love and the sea.

The sea... the calm blue forgiving sea

Expanding like the moment when I first held you in my arms

And cradled my anger, my animosity

Plagued me, with your generosity.

Love- used to provide me with succour when you were around

Love? Now I question what it was all about!

And go about with life, with out

And answer, a peace of mind

Why was the meaning present-then, there, those days?

And suddenly dysfunctional- everything, everyone, everyday!

Love was once like a cherry tree,

And you came like the winter wind stealing my pride

Love has became the gutter-dark, defunct, smelly

Forgotten wastes, unwanted excreta and scurrying rats running amuck

Decaying my soul and chewing its hide, you let me rot,

You let me die…

So how is it that we define what-was?

I was no good with words; you were the one so good with them all!

Or how is this that we've become strangers in pot that boils down

Happy-i-ness to hope-less-ness

It feels so strange to just talk to you

And yet so abnormal if I don't!

Let me walk away and never hear you say again what love meant to you

For to me, it meant a bloody big deal.

No comments

© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall