searching in bleak light
pressing open hands into darkness
feel of soft vapor to wanting
fingertips; finding the kindest hint
of moving air
a knowing sleep, seems so real
watching my eyes watching my hands
four stanzas on the wall
the story of all, and truth revealed
finding the last two lines..
and meanings searched so dear, here
this wall of eternal gleanings
wondering, wondering aloud
light from another room
waking, teetering on the edge of memory
trying, to know something forgotten,
raise grains of sands in a gale
trying, trying, to bring back water fallen
through my fingers...
art comes into sleep, dreams fly
away leaving flimsy webs
..such an indifferent lover.
In a list
A contest entry
- and even a lover... by PrabhuDayal Khattar.
400 points, ended September 13, 2007, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Winkling & Friends Contest #55 What is a poem? by Winklings.
1400 points, ended March 22, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Thrilled to see gold on this wonderful piece. Congratulations my poetic friend. I loved this one. ~Pamela
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So perfect ...
and well deserving of the gold trophy ... thoughts that produce more thoughts! and a poem that is certainly worthy to read more than just once. My favorite line was: "waking, teetering on the edge of memory" ... as this has become more relevant to me as I mature ... Darn it, I love my dream life and can get completely immersed as if I'm really there and this is wonder-full but each time that I, after waking, try to go back to that place, the thoughts slide away as fast as I try to reel them in. A new phenomena for me! at this age and I wonder if there is a larger reason for this or if I'm slowly losing my mind? joy
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Oh yes I have trod this road a few times, and I totally loved how you made me feel these verses and relive my bout with words........the whisper upon my soul....novy
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you have captured here perfectly what it is like to write and get to a line that you know is aching to be written and can almost hear the words whispering in your mind but the line stays blank because when you come to that point the word you know that should come next just....doesn't and you wait, and listen, and think and go blanker, and blanker, and put the page in the drawer with the others like it to complete when it decides to happen. Fickle muse.
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Now ...
Your lines impel the reader forward. I am not usually a fan of present participles ( ... ing words for other readers) but your poem deserves them!
"calling down" the muse is often difficult ... she is an indifferent lover.
In the context of this contest, your poem is an evocation of the constant struggle both with language and expression of ideas and feeling to get at art.
This is a most honorable effort.
Lyndon of the Winklings.
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wow
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"four stanzas on the wall"
That is just brilliant. I love the idea of it, the body of it, truly excellent.
I wasn't so much a fan of the repetition here but nonetheless this is wonderfully done. A bit more sadness than seems usual for you, but at the same time it still holds this amazing beauty. -
Oh my goodness, this is so very beautiful...a precious and poignant poem..the images that you develop through this writing is stupendous... water runnign through your hands... teetering on the edge... pressing hands into darkness.... this has to be the most perfect poem I have ever read of yours. Stupendous perfect writing!!!!!!!!
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art comes into sleep, dreams fly
away leaving flimsy webs
..such an indifferent lover.
I love the experimentation style of the words and line structrure which brings a kind of miraculous flow in the write..well done and thanks for the beautiful entry in my contest...
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This reminds me of struggling to recall a wonderful dream upon waking... or the many times an idea floated out of my head before I had a chance to write it down.
"trying, trying, to bring back water fallen
through my fingers...
art comes into sleep, dreams fly
away leaving flimsy webs"
Great!
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I agree, this is very beautifully written, you just keep getting better..
"trying, trying, to bring back water fallen
through my fingers..."
I love that line.
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Dreams so real you can touch and taste until at last you wake...alone. Beautifully written. Love, C
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