The ceiling fan blades were rotating
Slowly slowly – anticlockwise –
Over the ceiling wall
Cutting my thoughts into pieces
It was all artificial light inside
Fluorescent all around my room
Night never beamed, or
Streaked my glass window pane
With its silvery strands
We are boggling our time
Staring movement of the fan
Least aware, that
Some meaningful occurrences are happening
Outside our preview
I did all
To align my thoughts with outside, but
Artificiality rounded me such that
Even I tried to switch it off
The blades kept on rotating into my dreams
An intriguing and evocative piece whose existential disquiet brings to mind scenes from black and white Hollywood movies.
So much thanks for thy precious comments dear Sir Louis Kasatkin!
An introspective,surrealist poem.Lovely.
So much thanks dear Sir Vijay Nair Ji!
Poem reflects the sharp contrast between nature and the artificial ambience inside
Binaries of realism and idealism well depicted.