“What are you looking at with your
eyes so closed?” asked the cat.
“The stars and brighter suns. And dark nights
that even the demons
are scared to dance,” she said.
The cat was quiet for some time, then said,
“Deep waters, you mean. Now see
The lily that lives on the surface.”
He sits, rigidly.
Fingers twitch – little girl dies.
Eyes shut. Plot lives on.
© Devina S.
The air was frigid
Like soup left on the table
The wind blew in forceful gusts
As if blind the to long dead heat
The night was a hungry child Continue reading
You see me on the train
Usually your gaze passed over me like a light drizzle
You noticed me, today’s eye of the storm
An innocuous fixture
In your dream-scape of blurry reality
You focus on me (dunno why, not that special)
On my sand brown skin and longish chestnut hair
Your eyes probe my prone form
I grow nervous, but I stare right back
I’m too tired to care this second, ginger boy
What do you see,
How sharp is the harpoon of your gaze,
Will it pin my soul in place, at your mercy?
You seem kind enough, black depth-less eyes glisten with curiosity
You might have been shy once, what makes you so bold now
Stranger mine, that you brazenly attempt to read me
Stretched out on the back seat
I close my eyes and pretend,
My head rests on vibrant green grass
The edges beaded with dew
I see the stars above,
And they moved as we drove
Like feeling the earth spin
But yet these sparkling stones remain
Piercing my human eyes
With mysterious light of a familiar Sun
And I think about that,
That connection and the distance
Then in between the noise
Of my breath, The Proclaimers, and the breeze
A silence settled over me like a blanket
An inaudible click, felt
The stars seemed to smile brighter
As if they knew
I’d never feel the same way
Ever again as I did on this long ago drive
This night when I felt
Myself one with the universe
All at once sound rushed in my ears
But I never did un-click
Because … I belong
I was made of the stuff of stars
I hear it’s poetry month, so I’ll try to write once a day. I think it’s neat, poetry month, a poem can say much more than whole paragraphs could and there’s so many ways to write them!
Good evening, folks ;)
‘House in Stanlytown Guyana’ by James Mingo, via Fine Arts America.
Guyanese rainstorm -
Five o’ clock breeze, quiet
Stained glass, bits of home.
© Devina S.
Sometimes there’s a reason for everything
Sometimes there’s no reason at all
But above all else, I beg you to remember
Pick yourself up after every fall
Don’t let despair
Catch you in thrall
- 2013 Devina S.
* A Japanese proverb.
via Fun Photo Mania (click to see)
Nights spilled into days
And the days would slosh,
Quick and messy against each other
My thoughts, helplessly dispersed among them
The bits of the shipwreck left of my consciousness
Floating aimlessly out at sea
And there is a creeping panic within me
Often skimming along my spine
With cold fingers of dread
The menacing prospect of stagnation
And the possibility of failure
* Continue reading