I wandered along the hazy shore,
Picking shells out of the sand.
Each held a story in a whisper,
It had heard from the sea.
I held them up against the Sun
And squinted up to see.
Letting their silhouettes
Burn away all the images
I carried of you.
I wandered along that hazy shore,
Like a refugee.
Again and again your voice
Came to me. Carried
Maliciously by the wind.
I picked shells out of the sand,
And begged them to speak.
I placed them in a cracked,
Red, beach bucket.
And carried on walking.
Breeze blowing by,
Seagulls sitting disgusted
By the side, couples
Pressed into shadows,
Crows wandering the skies,
All paused to watch me,
Stumbling beside the sea,
With my bucket full of memories.
I forget when I stopped,
Or where. Beside
That unloved shore I sat,
Cradling the absences of you.
Until the shells started to stink,
How could they remind me of you?
You are not this lonely shore,
This soulless city, this tired ocean,
Or this listless breeze.
You are not my shaking heart,
Nor the tremble in my pen.
You are not this poem.
You are not here.
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Good one Arunji but these lines were good if rephrased "I placed them in a cracked,
ReplyDeleteRed child's beach bucket." It reads more like a cracked red child :)
favourite so far....gobsmacked! :)
ReplyDeleteAmazing poem though these lines would sound better if rephrased...
ReplyDeleteI placed them in a cracked,
Red child's beach bucket.
Right now it reads as "A cracked, red child" and his beach bucket :)