She walked to the edge.
The cliff lay parched under her feet.
The sand beneath her feet burning,
As if to exact some distant primitive revenge.
Fierce, vicious, violent.
The thorns bathed in venom bore into her flesh.
Pebbles burnt black,
Giving off soot like a sinewy skeleton .
The lust in the thirsty wind streaked her troubled tresses.
Carrying embers of doom in their unrelenting ire.
Under the hot afternoon sun,
Her heart hardened and died.
“You are a girl.” They said.
And she was just a girl.
The squalid waters flowed under her,
Cutting through the base.
The tentacles of glass barriers,
Spreading placidity all around itself.
Her eyes looked tired of saline tears
Drying in a screaming silence.
A tell-tale lull prevailed.
The minutes wet with easing pain,
Waited for time to clot into a meaningless void.
And through the pores of cerulean skies,
She heard whispered curses.
“You are a burden.” They said.
And she was just a burden.
She looked down into the depths,
Where there was no dearth of dark.
Where still hissing magma of hatred dwelled
In endless reservoirs of unclad vice.
No one breathed.
Nothing moved.
Only a seductive gorge of envy gaped back at her.
From here it was a steep climb up to find the sun....
And some wafts of moist clouds, she thought.
Like rain in starved June,
Like kisses wrapped in soft delight
Like unuttered promises of love.......she hoped.
But, that was not her.
In some other time.
Some other place.
As if waiting for the inevitable
While tongues, lecherous with pallid drool reached out to her bosom.
A pair of red unforgiving eyes swooped down on her.
She gave in.
A deep, lonely plunge.
Silence.
Then,
She heard them shout,
“You are a whore!"
And she was just a whore.
The idea of this poem was presented to me by one of my friends. I developed on it, after which she decided that I had lent too many shades of my own to her original outline and hence it now belonged to me. Therefore, I post this with slight acknowledgment and sparse regret ( as the original idea remains pilfered ).
8 comments:
This is a reality of our society..and unfortunately it still remains undisturbed.God when will we change?:-(
its unfortunate.
depresses me.
but you played with words really well. Wonderfully written :)
An unbearably sad poem. Though I like the litany of emphasis in the last lines of each paragraph. Gives more expression to the texture.
Hey, can I request you for a happy poem. They are usually rare to come by but such an immense joy to read.
Pretty please?
With a cherry on top?
@ Ritika. "Gives more expression to the texture." With all my sincerity, Would you kindly guide ? I didn't really get you on that.
and Yes. One pretty poem coming up for you! NExt change!
:P
I probably don't know know what it means myself. My English teacher used to garble a lot about expressions and textures.
What I did try to say was, the emphases provides a certain tone to the lines, a certain expression one can add verbally just by reading it, basically what emphases are used for.
Though you also get the feeling that the lines have a first person view where the first few lines are full of self pity while the last lines are like a bitter revelation. Its not someone else telling her story, its she herself.
Another interpretation is that its late in the night and I probably should get some sleep. So do not really try too hard to understand what I have been trying to say. I, myself have forgotten.
:O
# Ritika- I would take the first interpretation. Any day ! Spare me the second one.
Your expressive intensity in this poem is rich and you have lent a very dark yet watery quality to the whole composition. Loved reading it.
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