Monday, 15 March 2010

Streets to the Unknown

Or, hast thou experienced love, my poet?

We do not know.

What do you not know, my poet?
Those hidden alleys of love?
Bylanes to destiny, crisscrossed with misfortune?
Misfortune of not being known, but discovered?
Of being discovered but remaining unrecognized?
(Is it in your smile that the answer lies?)

They remain questions.

He toils at his task, so extremely literate,
but his grimy and sweaty countenance frowns.
Always these dark cul-de-sacs leading to more questions...
Why doesn't he laugh when the treacherous evening descends
and the leaves rustle and the stars burst into tears?
(Why does he search for answers in my smile?)

He does not know.

We should have gone for an unnatural play together
Beaumont and Fletcher, or maybe a movie- Chinatown-
He would have been horrified with the incest
Jack Nicholson would have satisfied me, we would soon
part ways. He would walk away, and the moon
would shine on my fading silhouette. Farewell.

The Unknown can only ask questions-

Have love, my poet?
When the sweat dripped from your weary brow-
and you thought, "This is the time, then
and now, now she will come-" and I came
But the weight of legacies, questions and quandaries...
Burdens. You sought deliverance, that too in a smile.

I go back to what I know best, my
final inheritance. You, my poet,
unlettered and not illiterate,
honest but untrue.
Perhaps no poet at all.

What is a smile?
A street to the Unknown?

We do not know.


ketamine said...

'unlettered and not illiterate'
wonderful , wonderful expression!

Monidipa said...

five years ago you knew beaumont and fletcher? (this would be when you were in school, remember. you haven't been at jude five years yet.)

no wonder you are retarded and mad. :|

Arse Poetica. said...

We had The Tempest in classes 11 and 12. I was reading a book on tragicomedy(Shakespeare's last plays being tragicomedies) when I came across B&F (who I then thought were perverts)...

I got 86% in ISC English btw. Fat lot of good knowing about Beaumont and Fletcher did me!

Madhuri said...

ah but you are too harsh, what price a poet higher than a mirror or a glassy lake