Monday, October 12, 2009

There's no point of reference

(Written, 18th August, 2009: inspired by a dream on the night before)


There's no point of reference

no sense of presence

only absolute darkness;

I am ruptured, floating

without any structure,

the darkness is cold and soothing

it reminds of the sweet winters

and then there's the white snow

trickling down so slow;

falling into a heap

as if making a snowman by itself,

after the motion was arrested

i don't know for how long

there was no time to know;

a slice of snow withered

off the heap ,as if unvealing a statue

so white and magnifique,

This withered snow undid the darkness

painting this canvas - white with one stroke

and so the statue broke

broke its silence

defying stone by delicate wings

like a butterfly out of cocoon

wings white , white o my fairy white
she whirled and tempted me

ruptured , floating , i followed

She brought with her dense white clouds

she sat on them sensuously

her white gown barely covering her chest

and one leg hanging down

and the other fixed under her thighs

the cloud flew over a path

structured like a rainbow

just no colors , white again

the only other colour

of her skin

her clinched fist opened

like a bud , does on a sleepy morning

her fingers delicate , inviting;

like she hid secrets

of nature in her bosom
ruptured , floating , i followed

The dense cloud , i couldn't touch

i had to climb

no sense of what;

she was no goddess

she was willing to bless

i was ruptured , she healed

her voice of the calm ocean

her eyes its blue essence

no darkness now

only white with snow

I went for the forbidden

sure i couldn't touch

she wasn't there anymore

only the white clouds

which weren't white anymore

poof ! went one and the other

and another, one by one

i fell into the black

spiralling spiralling

back to the darkness

where there's no point of reference

no sense of presence

only absolute darkness

-Arpit Kumar
B.A. (Hons.) English; I Year

1 comment:

janu said...

Dear Arpit,
Without going into critical analysis, I'll just comment on what I read......And let me tell you, the reading was good....though it could had been better but it certainly doesn't contradict the talent you possess.... In poetry, to say, whether a poem good or bad is meaningless because it's the emotion which speaks not words... Words only compliment the emotions.... Though the title seems quite off-track in beggining but as the poem goes on, it's realised that there couldn't had been a better title to this... Keep going like this untill your poems also raise themselves beyound all the points of references. Good work!!