My He-mages

Image credit: google

Lodged in my cranium

Are a thousand sketches

Images,maps, drawings

Cluttered on the floor of my mind

Blown by the wind of time

Nonetheless there notwithstanding

In my mind are drawn

Longitudes and latitudes, pixels of photos

Circumferences, radii

Not exactly scientific

But not hazy enough

I can tell Pakistan from Bangladesh

I can detect the face of a serial killer

I can tell the face of a hard knock from

One about to commit suicide

I can tell a fake Picasso’s paint

I know the Breakfast of a Blind Man

For for four solid hours I looked at it

To see the blind man in my mind’s eye

To visualize what oil did to canvas

To produce a work of art

See, I can remember all this

Because unlike insipid raw data

These images are embossed on my mind

They are a part of me

With them, I replay clips

Daily

The horror I saw on a scared face

The tilted eyebrows

The twitching lips of a liar

Matter of fact, I don’t remember them

For I didn’t forget them anyway

C) Lorot Salem 2011

Shared with Jingle's Poetry Potluck #36 Sketches, Images, Impressions

D)-evolution?

Image credit: google:my.opera.com

Methinks our forefathers 

had guts, chased an antelope

down a cliff, cornered a gazelle

 into a river, bore cold.

I just wonder between the world
and us what changed: we sprint half a

metre and pant like a tadpole before a fall!

C) Lorot Salem 2011



For a Prompt of Jingle Poetry Potluck on Evolution, Environment and Survival.

Living on Borrowed Breaths

Image credit: google

They squirm in desolation, afraid to breath,
Many a careless exhalation have travelled unguarded
To the walled residences, embarrassing their stature

Thus they live on borrowed breaths
Neither inhaling nor exhaling
Drawing sketches of beautiful lands
In their minds
Lest they be executed
For stealing Picasso's paint brush

They have also learned to dream
Silently
Lest they be accused of
Harbouring Coup d'etat propensities

They walk with stooped shoulders
Lest they be tortured
For appearing brazen

They have learned to nail their thoughts
To mundane things like grocery and the sun
For many a careless exhalation travelled unguarded
To walled residences.

C) Lorot Salem 2011

Shared with Jingle Poetry Potluck Week 33