Christable Anon started with a riddle that she was told, is a poem when she was in class III as sudden as one mad afternoon menstrual start. And then she realized she has to walk miles with words. She ventured impulsively, honestly, true to the sensibilities of her surrounding, and unaware of time and event she grew up along with her poetry. Works here are evidences of her makeover; few dedicated few self-explanatory.
You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Joseph Joubert
Saturday, April 18, 2009
1.
the trumpet cloud
and metaphors
running string through
dead, divine hopes
the plate is so green
and breathing silhouettes
tracking gills
of liquid fishes
brown lips
and the boat pose for a sail
bewitched by colours
and wings-
mast
of Iphigenia
surreal fleet
so interstellar
floating down
a log
the shore
of music
naked wounded
sincerely
butterfly...
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3 comments:
Evocative...
surreal n profane imagery.Arouses a sense of divinity!
c my poem too.
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