By Swati Joshi
Swimming grains of fragments all over the tired sea,
built a ship destined to touch the wrecking bed.
Did the dreams convalesce into nightmares of a flag?
Memories, times , half retained half forgotten
Half distorted into the life prism shining red.
Starts conjugation with heads, planned futures
unplanned patches of colors dipped in dust.
Lest, it all has fallen back into flustered just.
Potential, they call caliber, filling till brim.
Modesty touching ground, is it a win?
Righteous, it is to be thought and to be well spent
In work and the hours of all the wrestle.
But is the truth what all is clear or is it
an order of Dike, a soul meta-transfer?
Hindered wishes, walls of defense .
Pious, altered, heavenly , unbothered
silk eyes to flake the beauty of Athens.
Soft, upper hands of blessings, flowers lavender
a turn of settings, confrontation on hold
Realization of being near to the fault as the truth gapes.
You bring shame to nihilism, have the girth of
Poirot, feels of a tap, a break , an intolerance.
Acceptance of your beliefs make me yours truly
Found and lost while the desires count
With an unconscious of Freud.
Flat steps , height high, sound of stepping up
never heard light, seems to know
much of an intuition, care of a pallor
a rejuvenation; goblets of no losses.
Fire of a printed paper.
Pinpoint approach of filling a biography.
Soundproof glasses can’t give peeping presence.
Smile too perfect, work too logistic
Sleep in a while , while I watch
If you can really?
Meeting demands, is it altruism or
Feasted upon? Look right and move your shadows.
The sculptures you carved are already worn off.
Knowledge you imparted seems to torn you and me both
Guess you are disappointed but I am not.
Streaks of cinnamon, notorious to your feet
I have just peeked from the windows and
You are losing your skin
Your hands are restless and head is disoriented.
You aren’t anxious, it is pain of separating.
By Swati Joshi
コメント