Not at Home
14 May 2016
The garden
Withers from the sun
It once breathed
Shining bright
The same rays give life and death
All is in dosage
Drop by drop
Even venom cures
Plastic face
Renews grace
Through the effect of poison
Coursing through its lines
Drip by drip
The blood exchanges
Old for new
They were few
Now they scurry throughout Earth
Ants in royal hills
Pulse by pulse
We measure other
The heartbeat
A keen drum
Of all the feelings the sum
Muffled nothingness
Pace by pace
I gain momentum
Consistence
The tedium
Daily inching towards hope
While this Earth I roam
Not at home
Lost in wilderness
Green ivy
Enchains me
Into thickest of the fear
As I look for keys
Not at home
The padlock still creaks
Though I oil
Its hinges
Stealing myself through thin holes
For a glance at home
Soul cringes
Upon the return
The elders
They make way
Brash generations today
Their young mind wavers
Not at home
No lessons are learnt
Amnesia
The only tool
I chase my tail like a fool
Humourless plaything
Not at home
Invisible dome
Compresses
Suppresses
The eyes in all Cypresses
Giant lookout post
Reading of the poem:
Sunny Road – Emiliana Torrini
Tookah – Emiliana Torrini
Baby Blue – Emiliana Torrini
wondetful words, so well composed. just 1 line i didnt quite get “Stealing myself through thin holes”.
best wishes Geetha
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You words are of a magician’s. Tell me, are you one?
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Thank you. In some way we all create or use magic to some extent on a daily basis
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You create magic with words. Perhaps I had used this same comment before also. 🙂
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Thank you so much for your kind words. I am glad that people resonate with the words 🙂
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