I met Monet
in his princely demeanor,
among the manicured lawn
and the secret garden
grows its verdant sprigs
and tresses, wild and free
in the prairie. Butterfly
flutters paint palette
hovering bloom
after bloom. Solitude
drips in cadmium and ochre sun
sitting prominently,
potted and composed,
regal and undisturbed.
A gentle touch of the brush
that peaceful gaze,
horizonless strokes,
a sweet landscape.
I walk dreamily
drank with loveliness,
the wavy enthusiasm
of the blue sea.
Such is the welcoming
spirit of the flags
sashayed in the wind,
gliding together
with solitary birds
taking flight. Still
above the silver lake,
mirrored pools
of mountains in reverie.
I see reflections
of wooden boats
bobbing in a dance
with quiet clouds
rippling soft creating
small shivers
in its feathery face.
I remember the way
he ushered me in
like an esteemed guest.
Taking my eyes to see
his picture books
of seeming easiness,
that immortal silence
showing how
to live as human,
not quite heavy
as his tormented soul.
Indigo
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Social Commentary, Society, tagged allow, alone, applaud, back, battle, blank, boxes, break, breakthrough, chains, changes, collision, colors, concept, courage, distant, door, down, dreams, embrace, emotion, empty, exit, fear, feather, float, glass, grey, grip, head, images, indigo, knock, life, lighter, long, memory, myriad, nostalgia, old, pass, past, peace, peddle, photographs, poem, poetry, pretend, push, rainbow, rarity, reality, reflections, river, rogue, search, sepia, shapes, someone, souls, spaces, stain, staircases, stare, stumble, sun, tether, things, understanding, undeterred, unmindful, waiting, walls, way, winds on June 21, 2013| Leave a Comment »
Empty handed you go into spaces
searching for souls like collisions
of grey shapes stumbling down
into staircases heading for exit.
Pass this way. They are the reflections
of glassy things you see staring back
at you- images of the sun battling
against the rogue winds. Then peace
will come knocking at your door
peddling its sepia stained photographs
and pushing nostalgic emotions
tethered to your distant past.
You will not allow it. You will pretend
as if you’ve come a long way from there
and someone has to understand
that they need to break down
the concept of the old life you are not
now. Though they won’t applaud changes
and alone you have to float like a river
where myriad of dreams are waiting
to become realities and rarities.
You have to be lighter than feather.
You should embrace memories
like the colors of the rainbow.
Unmindful and undeterred by fear
gripping like empty boxes and chains
to the blank spaces waiting to be filled
with courage to break through walls.
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