Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Broken yet complete

The pile of dust on the Irish carpet, I thought
of love to be that dust,
Like a unwanted desire to be wanted,
As if it’s all about surrendering your worth
to a pedlar or
letting a clown paint your face and mock at it

It was a tip- tap game, with millions of buffaloes
on a cliff, stampeding off,
or an exam, as essential as your life but
you are destined to fall, and poorly, even from a
table as high as a five year old – fall.

I hate sun and it lives on my head
I hate rains and they believe I am their partner.

This is what, the whole scheme was written for,
by a wise, wise** shrewd old man,
to break the youthful heart
into the whims of a witch, delicately savouring its
feeding on its fleshly life.


Susie Swanson said...

This is so beautiful and it touched my heart. You really do dance with words...Susie

Brian Miller said...

this is a beautiful write, painful at points but your metaphors in the first part are clear and intricate all together...and the heart is there...love is....

Monika said...

Thanks Brian, yes the heart is all love.
Thanks Susie, I am glad you like my writings.

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Love is vague and the most beautiful undefined
definition of it
is knowing-
everything you felt was wrong.
There lies the source of my words, perennial,
broken yet complete

And yet, I found it more abstract with each para from a different dimension, but on the same emotion.

Blasphemous Aesthete

Andreas said...

"Broken yet complete". I suppose we're all broken - life breaks and bends our hearts and minds - but maybe - also - complete, from the very beginning, in ways we can't quite see.

"from a table as high as a five year old". What a wonderful description! Very telling. It makes me smile, even with the fall.

Jinksy said...

I think we had the same thoughts in mind this week...

lorely said...

knowing everything you felt was wrong...Wow! That's a powerful admission...and yet we always kow, don't we? Just sometimes don't want to hear the answers...