The Nascence of a WordA Poem by Shweta Singhwith all its shades,shapes & flavorAll words have a smell... not just a whiff of their own but the flavors of the ones surrounding & the taste,the odour of the master using If the master is Pat & he says,"Hello" the word looks hesitant but if it's Ronald the "hello." seems to be firm as if commanding me to reply.. No,it's not that I know them It's neither their photos nor their gestures which are 'twigs' or 'rain' it's their smell in that word which transports from their brain to that blue nerve, to the finger,to the tab, from the screen,to the cables & then to my system as I touch the words they have that odour ... Then you know their colors.. that Ahaana is Pink while Marrissa black Rohan is grey green is always Ashley Blue is you & me too as our words hum to spin that fine rhythm which makes a leaf, leaf & a buttercup, buttercup makes the door bang & crackles the yellow pages swishes the wings of the bird flying out of the pond makes the wind-chime tinkle & the teary-eyed baby yawn crushes the grass underneath my feet & makes me taste the raindrops with the tip of my tongue fills the sand in my nostrils as I smell the desert of Thar, the distant twinkling white star smells as the refrigerator's freezer as the moon settles as cool milk pudding so all this, and beyond this gives me the smell... the Smell of a Word.
© 2013 Shweta SinghFeatured Review
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Added on June 20, 2013Last Updated on June 20, 2013 Author
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