Wednesday, July 24, 2013

A note never struck...a chord never found...a karma

You are
Dear
Like a chord never found
And bound
me still
By You
Finds
Lines
On pages
Scribbling all the time
As if made a vow
To scribble you
All the way...

You are
Dear
Like a note unfathomed
Still anchored me boat
Finds thirst in your throat
Filling me
To feel how the evening
Transcend to a scene of the limitless
As if improbability
A possibility...

Like getting younger
Retrogressive
A move,
And older
Like George...
A black n white half lit cover
Of an album...

You are
Dear
Like a saxophone played on,
In every possible tense,
Past perfect
Present luminous continuous...

And
The evening
Can never be
More Holy...
As if karma...

No comments:

Post a Comment

The State Funeral

At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut,  She could not have spoken for  The rare award,  The police have done the th...