SunflowerA Poem by Nothing PersonalDedicated to our very own -- "Serah Jha". Forgive me for my poetic liberties and inadequacies. This was long due, Serah..Here it goes.Eyes, a thin line of seven day old mascara persists. Eyes, which haven't slept for days and months. Eyes, which are glued to a glass screen. Which is not an actual glass screen But a screen with possibilities, hope Breeding hope, imbibing hope Instilling hope and reinvigorating hope. She writes on a small desk And sits on a wooden chair Wobbly in its third leg So that you can fold a parchment beneath it To make it steady. Not that she needs , Written parchments to be steady. A cup of half filled tea, A lamp with a fluorescent glow. A lamp which has no off switch, Someone forgot to put it there. A yellow lizard crawls on the ceiling and observes her Between the flies, it devours for breakfast and lunch. "Tick. Tick. Tick", it says. The old wall clock agrees. The sun is shy. He hasn't met her for months now, But the sun keeps an eye on her door. When she would finally come out, He would put a brave face and meet her. Tell her he missed her and why it rained so heavily In the last six months. Words, they seek her every day, So she writes. But she is not a writer. She is a connoisseur of ideas mostly white Which floats as clouds in your sky. Hers too. Her words sometimes wails and scathes, Against fortresses of disbelief, Hate and mistrust, Judgments and Dogmas. "Kafir", they call her But she, She says nothing, She does nothing, She paints the walls inside her room With yellow, ochre and blue And spreads words. She messes us up with infectious hope An alive spirit, Ceaseless. Her Kalashnikov fires words And only words. Words like bullets that pierce my soul and surgeons can't do a thing. It also rips apart those others Whose merry and tonic is elsewhere In restless drains of garbage and sewage water. Her words leaves pages and gets blown away And settles as fine sands unto rivers Meandering through uncompromising lands Incising deep valleys and Etching archetypes. Revisit them on drier times As a tourist. Watch the carvings, intricate meshes, framework. Appreciate, when it is shallow and sly. Now she is busy, Making a garden inside her room. She sows seeds, waters plants and smells soils everyday African Daisy, California Poppy , Chinese Houses Desert Marigold, Evening Primrose and Forget Me Not Iceland Poppy, Indian Blanket, Mexican Hat New England Aster, Siberian Blueflower and Texas Blue bonnet. All her flowers are wild and needs full sun to grow. But when they do They will grow through her ceilings and narrow walls Break them apart And face the sun And she will meet him again. The sun would look at her sulky, beautiful face And sigh. Rainfall will cease in India, a little while from then on You can finally enjoy a sunny winter. © Nothing Personal. January 02, 2011. © 2011 Nothing PersonalAuthor's Note
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Added on January 2, 2011Last Updated on January 2, 2011 Tags: Starved Artist, Grit, Brave, Determination, Hope, Idea, Fighter, Serah Jha AuthorNothing PersonalTXAboutHi !! I don't fuss too much about sharing a name or an identity. I came across this website and found it to be an interesting niche for writers without distinctive labels. It is a great place to befri.. more..Writing
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