So unnamed

If this were about a closure.
It would be a museum of many things,
knick knacks, illusions and poems.
Words flaring up like an old bruise 

some caving in like the loose earth during monsoon 

some going out like the those stars that 

shimmer with the fleeting hue of permanence.

If this were a travelogue.
There would be a beginning, an end as 
bookends to an account of places visited, like the 3-5-7 point
tours in Sikkim
and of a love that looks like a journey. One that looks

back at the distance 

and hesitantly gathers moss.

If this were a home to a memoirist.
You would feel the dampness of his wailing walls

the emptiness of his windows. 

You would find torn sails in his vacant eyes.

A sense of windlessness inhabiting his uneasy breathing 

and the old flickering shadows that inhabit him.

And if this were the closing lines I wrote
about you and all the fog that inhabits me. 

If these were the last wailing of an Esraj. 

Would the silence inside me falter to erupt in my poems ?

Reviews

[Emily B]

I don't know about the last wailing of an Esraj . . . but I don't know about monsoons and torn sails either. Your words are beautiful. They remind me that poems are not meant to mean, but be, I wish I had thought of it first, but alas, Archibald MacLeish beat me to it.

These are good words to visit

[SHEEMA HUQ]

your words, are poised so delicatley, perhaps like the musical instrument; Esraj, which you feature, very nice, informative, writing

[Stammers]

Words flaring up like an old bruise

We are quite lucky you come online to hang out here, with us.

[Corset]

A home doesn't change the goings on inside it, it merely shelters from the harshness of the weathering currents inside and out, it doesn't water it's own lawn, it doesn't gather the mail from the box, it doesn't close it's own windows or drapes when it's storming, it just stands waiting till someone wishes to fill it with love and care,
I suppose the silence would spill and erupt if it was vacant and forlorn, what an amazing poet you are Abhra.

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

Your splendid, breathing, enveloping words again! I have missed you! This spreads through me like oil and honey...such wonderful lines, images, waves...won't even try to quote back to you.

[Abhra]

I guess following Emily and Shaan I will write about the phrase "the last wailing of an Esraj". The Esraj is a stringed musical instrument that sounds almost like the human voice. The instrument is hauntingly beautiful and sometimes resembles wailing. Here's a video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yecQsOHYaeA

[Shaan]

Also, I would love to get your review/feedback on one of my very first poem I published in this forum:
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/shaan/1054209/

thanks

[Shaan]

can you please elaborate this line a bit:
....... las wailing of an Esraj

thanks

[Shaan]

I really like it, especially the closing lines are the soul of this poem. congrates!