Wednesday 18 November 2015

the dog with the languid eyes (sestina)



Photo credit: www.dogwallpapers.net

the languid eyes of the pet dog tell a story
he has been here before, and the day before
of times he would wag his tail and run around
the sight of his man-friend a moment of pure joy
like a bone he crushes letting the bone-barrow escape in bliss
but these eyes are eyes of resignation and quiet aloofness

he was once the darling, hardly morose in this aloofness
his heart once an open book to be read a love story
believing always that pain wouldn’t outlive bliss
but can pain reincarnate into a pain felt before?
Or is it that into the vacuum of pain is filled joy?
Or is it that love, like an eagle, circles around?

the pet dog sits by idly, immobilized by nonchalance around
this neighbourhood harbours eyes sunken in aloofness
their footsteps calculated with the staccato of pretentious joy
their breasts unmoved by a story detached by their own story
this dog once knew love and trusted  before
this dog once felt the rhythmic throb of a heart in bliss

the pet dog’s friend moves about in feigned bliss
he remembers vaguely of the love they shared around
by God, he also remembers how fulfilled he felt before
and now, like a ship with broken sail he rides in aloofness
isn’t his story entwined in his dog’s story?
Or is it possible to feel happy without the dog’s joy?

but the light footsteps of the dog’s friend lacks joy
and his smile through his teeth is anything but bliss
for during the day, he slugs along life as a painful story
amid the concrete walls, the barricaded gates around
the tangible evidence of a world unashamedly parading aloofness
he knows this too well, for he knows the race of his heart before

the dog keeps on lying on his paws like never before
waiting and waiting for his friend’s Joy
uncertain about the time inclusiveness will replace aloofness
hoping and hoping in a dog’s world for the past bliss
nibbling at the morsel of love scattered in the crevices around
reliving past joys, rehashing what once was a glorious story

after what appeared to be a long philosophical rumination on bliss
the dog skirted the idea and flipped it around
he thought, “ah, my wag will better illustrate this story”.

c) Lorot Salem/ echoes of the hills 2015

~
Prompt: Poets United Midweek Motif: Mercy

Poet's Notes:

The prompt has invited poets to write a poem on the subject of Mercy. I decided to try a sestina. 

Tuesday 17 November 2015

through the slit of a cat's pair of eyes


through the slit of a cat's pair of eyes
many a dream was born
the window: a vantage point for oft-unpondered sights
through the slit of a cat's pair of eyes
a cat looks at the host, a stranger yet a friend
flurry of thoughts, away from the couches
through the slit of a cat's pair of eyes
a cat may step outside of himself, sighs.

C) Lorot Salem/echoesofthehills 2015

~
Note by Poet: My experiment with Triolets.
 
Photo Credit: Magpie Tales


Monday 16 November 2015

a painting of a new earth



I took a paper yesterday and drew earth.

sitting, back turned against the bravado of the city,
i thought that this city can be deceptive
so I turned my back against it
and faced the horizons,
the rushing clouds above
like fingers, caressing the promises
of unrequited love

the textured drawing,
the focussed pencil tip
the unassuming aura
all lent themselves
to a drawing of a new earth

it was one huge drawing
with no countries
because in my painter's eye
a borderless earth seemed appealing

it was a flagless earth I drew
because in my painter's eye
i envisioned a world without
shackles flags bring

crying, my pencil
lingered on the beak of a pigeon
flying across,
while below
a man, with a kalashnikov,
took aim

in despondency, this time shedding tears,
i let my pencil complete the drawing
the kalashnikov-wielding man
standing on stumps that were once his legs
one of his arms amputated

i then bent and placed my ear on his heart
and i heard torrents of tears, like a broken sewage,
his chest heaved, his stumps gave way
and i cried for a long time
my tears staining my paint

after what seemed so long,
i stepped back and wiped my tears
and whispered to my paint:
"I never knew you were in this kind of pain..."

C) Salem Lorot/echoesofthehills 2015




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