Sunflower

Dedicated 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.

Author's Note

Though the poem was conceived by my imagination, it is partly based on my discourses with Serah, whom I got to know through this platform. This poem is for her, and for all people out there who even in their darkest of hours and deepest of troubles instills and inspires hopes and ideas to us , especially to idiots like me.

I don't want to explain my poems but I need to mention the last but one para was a dedication to a real, stupendous effort undertaken by Serah. I know there are others who have helped and contributed and without it , this would not be possible. I apologize to you all but I thank you with my sincerest intentions for everything.

Reviews

[em]

- my god!! - i'm moved to tears - i know serah'll be too - in fact - i'm pretty sure - she is - right at this moment - or she will - when i call and read this out to her - over the phone - this is such a warm and delicate and exquisite dedication - to a warm, delicate and exquisite person - she really does - epitomize - courage and conviction - love and dedication - resilience and strength - passion and poetry - for me - and for so many others - she moves people - and inspires them - to progress - dream - write - learn - think - evolve - unselfishly and passionately - and i know - that i have way too much to thank her for -
- with the anthology - its all coming together - and she binds it together - she thought of it - she dreamed it - she's made it come to life - she is - in spirit - in every word that's there - and she's taking poets and poetry to the world - and the world - to poets and poetry -
- thank you - for your amazing dedication - and thank you - serah jha - for being -

[SOUL LESS]

A master piece without doubt. Very powerful imagery.

[Kerry O'Connor]

This has been written to put into words what so many of us feel about our fellow poet and friend - thank you for finding the words to express these emotions. It is particularly moving coming from Nothing Personal - I remember reading your 'About Me' in which you stated your intention to keep your personal distance on this forum... forgetting, perhaps, that this is the realm of poetry, the music of soul.

And only words.
Words like bullets that pierce my soul
and surgeons can't do a thing...

[Kelsie Eileen Stark]

Brilliant piece! I can't say enough words to praise this poem. I'm sure Serah will love it, as I did too!
Marvolous job!~

[Sunflower 20]

very nice. this poem has a great flow to it with an easy hand of great writing. I really enjoyed this read.

well done :)

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is amazing. You impress me with each time I read your poetry and story. I like the feel and emotion of this poem.
"But she is not a writer.
She is a connoisseur of ideas mostly white"
A outstanding poem. A very good ending to the poem. Thank you.
Coyote

[Marie Harrison]

What a beautiful tribute for a lovely and sweet lady. Bravo!