Friday, 28 May 2010

Look at the sky. Can it be true?

From twilight to darkness
Horizons must shrink
Solitude's starkness-
The evening so pink.


The pinkness of the evening
is almost a joke.
Look at the sky. Can it be true?
And think about it.
I waited for you.


Pastorals are written
By men in the town
Who sleep with whores
When the sun comes down.
My grief is flimsy
My language is bad
But will you believe me
When I say that I'm sad?


And all around me
Softly falls night
The city then wakes up
Puts on the light-
Or should it be plural? So many lights
Dispelling the grief of so many nights.

But night alone stands, Night.
Never to be lightened.
Around me, nausea tightened
its hold. Its hold, like sticky glue.
Look at the sky. Can it be true?


storyteller said...

This is so so beautiful and it made me so happy :) You're so so talented Ahona I <3 you

Baudolino said...

This poem depresses me. Most of your poems do. Maybe it is a part of their charm. Twisting fibre on fibre, till everything turns into a thread of fabricated desolation.

Baudolino said...

No, it's a beautiful poem.

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

Look at the sky/can this be true...(pause)

I caught the plumes of a flying bird/ and now my eyes smell of bird poo.

dyakh, eta koto anonder kobita. unlike tor otyadhik bhalo, kintu dukkhojonok kobita.

Anushka said...

No one's writing is more gracefully spontaneous than yours.

Torsa said...

"Pastorals are written..." - liked this stanza the best. Your poem is, I feel, cynically lyrical. :)

debAlina MiTiL C. said...

deceptive with the "pinkness of the evening".. underneath a disturbed mind.