Test
August 12, 2010 at 8:59 am 3 comments
Wrote a test
Wanted to get somewhere with that.
Wrote and rewrote,
Checked and checked,
Till it looked like satisfaction on paper.
Got attached to it.
Started feeling for the words in red and black in a descent font size!
Looked plump and happy to me, my contented words.
Now, I wanted to get somewhere,
Somewhere special,
Where I would sit on an ornamental chair with a smart and nifty world on the table!
Manufacture words. Look for those missing commas which make your heart beat pause,
For those periods which end it all.
For those dashes and colons which tell it the right way, ha ha, this et al.
People in blue buttoned shirts and smart pants, all singing my praise,
Hail this genius! Hail this controller of words!
Ha! Me and my kingdom of words!
No no! It was not a dream, I must say.
It was there, ready to be grabbed.
I was almost there with my pen and word-control eyes.
My eyes, you ask? Yes they house million dreams! Should you make fun?
Yes. I thought of a fabulous life. A duplex house, fancy red car, patch of cultivated green, a smiling family,
A green, wild, open field lying there all for me to begin my oft forgotten plan,
To run for exercise.
Now it is not there. All gone and it only took a minute.
How? Do you have to salt and pepper my burn?
They wrote a mail.
Which made me feel like a criminal on the dock, left gaping at the judge who had just uttered, “court adjourned”.
“There were many eyes or too many word manufacturers”, they wrote. Oh! those words. Hammering into my ears.
They came in like Santa Clauses, my dream breakers, riding on commas and periods.
Their gifts? Ha ha! Shining white papers with slim and in-shape words.
They came in all at the right time. When I was creating a perfect dream and a near perfect shining white paper.
I saw something, then. Something bleak and muted.
I saw me, sitting outside a Christmas house, on a moonlit night . All frigid and lost.
Without food, warm clothing or shelter.
There was no gift waiting for me under that hopefilled tree.
There was no ornamental table, no fancy car.
Only a shoulder strong enough to support my leaning side.
Calm, cool words from some distant , familiar voice.
Like cool, sparkling white, foamy water, falling on a dark, steady rock.
Made me soothe, heal, and recreate my dreams.
And left me thinking, no no, never, ever say hide.
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1.
moonmoon | September 1, 2010 at 2:55 am
wow Chitrangada! this is amazing!you are a wonderful poet. this is indeed very motivating…a source of strength, an inspiration for all those who are pursuing their dreams
2.
moonmoon | September 1, 2010 at 8:06 pm
refined and sophisticated. it was hard for me to comprehend in the first reading…:)
one question… does the “familiar voice” refer to poet’s inner self or a close friend ?
3.
chitrangada09 | September 2, 2010 at 5:55 am
Hey thanks!
can I dodge this?:) Kidding.. inner self I guess….