Paint, use brush
the art instructor said
I took the brush to the canvas
he closed the class door on me
use a model, naked
my partner said
I stripped a woman
he took her to bed
use your imagination, raw
my friend said
I drew her
she stopped talking to me
enough! I said
I took a chisel and
carved the heart
out of the canvas
Pitter-patter pitter-patter
prompts a story
of a little girl
written sixteen springs ago
for an English exam paper
she visits her sick best friend
in the hospital and
sees a frail static girl
after shedding tears
kisses goodbye to leave
pitter-patter pitter-patter
the rain falls
down the path
she hears her friend
offer her an umbrella
a sadness in her voice
her friend reassures
of her recovery
they hug and part
to meet again
the next day, the little girl
humming happily
bounces along the path
to her best friends house and
finds people mourning
‘She’s gone,’ they tell her
Impossible! she checks the time
as the rain had started falling
pitter-patter pitter-patter
her friend had said her goodbye
The thing I fear most
is not the unseen and the unknown
which cannot touch me
which can hurt me no more
than I can see or feel it
like a ghost
which cannot scare me
if I don’t see it
but the seen and the known
which has the power
to control me
like a confused spouse
who ridicules every step
I take
or a bully at school
who snatches my lunch
and laughs over my helplessness
for the fun of it
and has the power
to hurt me
like a harsh parent
who gives no second thought
to the tears in my eyes
or a rose in my garden
which I rear
like a baby and withers
in front of my eyes
or the thought
of a caged bird
which will never soar
in the free sky again
or a friend
I thought was true
steps back in times
of direst need
so it is well said
what is unseen and unknown
can never hurt us
as the seen and known
like the darkness
which becomes a curiosity
when it is illuminated
and frustrates us
when we know not the reason
for its illumination
[Random thoughts.]
This poem is entered for Monday Poetry Potluck [29/11/2010] at Jingle Poetry and the theme for this week is Nature: Plants, Creatures and the Cosmos.
The fog sets into the valley
a light drizzle is on *Kanglung
on yellowing leaves
a sign of the setting of summer
rise of autumn
In the distance the birds sing
the song of the approaching season
the song of human lives
the song of my loneliness
and a sign of the approaching woods
I walk the path into the woods
my gateway to solace
the cold wind stings my face
small pearl like droplets
of water in my hair
lose themselves
like I lost myself in life
My nose takes in the familiar
raw smell
of the living woods mixed with dust and
roving smoke from the chimneys of
the village down in the vales
I try to see through the fog
I see the silhouettes
of trees, my companion of years
in happiness and in sorrow
coming into view
Their branches reach forth
to touch me as always
to reassure me of
finer things tomorrow
to brush away
my pain of today
It’s like they know
why I haunt like a spirit among them
I feel no words in my mouth
as tears tighten my throat
choking me
The wind blows
as if to tell me
to cry my heart out
I feel the branches
embrace me
like the arms of a friend
warm and comforting
on a cold evening
as the rain showers down
it drips by the side of my face
I cry rain mingled with tears
The wind howls mad through the
trees at that moment
drowning my sobs
like a friend they are
covering my embarrassment of
having to cry out loud
As I walk homeward I hear the
leaves rustle and the wind
whisper in my ears
to come back again
the branches stroke my face
the wind howls
I understand why
*Kanglung : A place in Bhutan
[I started this poem in 2003 and completed in 2009]
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