I don’t know when the rains started to bleed.
A taste of salty pining, a dash of
Peppered moments and memories, dancing together
Their bodies, clasped, loosening, melting, blurring.
I don’t know when my clay hands composed you,
Mold after mold, structure, shape, dimension
Nestled in the embrace of these coiled fingers,
Your cinnamon breath, blowing its fragments,
Mingling with my own, tearing me open,
The gash of my wounds, alive, and trembling still.
I don’t know when the smell of long lost love
Stark dead, ghost-white, wafts along
The interstate where the night reveals
And sea winds soar and sing, the smell
Of burnt lips entwined, slicing through
The raging night, earnest, shadowy, whispering.
I don’t know when the downpour stopped,
The blood, the tears, the salt tickling me,
Pulling me within, deeper still,
My crust and core, rising, floating
In the debris of the days, lost.
Mesmerising . It’s cadences and tropes remind me a lot of the lyrics of Willy Vlautin and Iron & Wine.
It was an absolute poetic treat Lopa..enjoed well..:-)
Louis Kasatkin sir, overjoyed to see your lovely comments!
Thanks a lot Maaya for the lovely comments!
Beautiful poem Lopa!
Excellent…!!
Thanks a lot Reena, Pendyala Pradeep sir!
Amazing poetry
Sunil Sharma sir, thanks a lot…Truly humbled!
Lopa.
Beautiful
Thanks Joel!
Best,
Lopa.
Intoxicating.
Rain reigning in heart
Drenching body mind and soul.
All wounds gets washed away.
Thanks ma’am.
Beautiful poem, dear Lopa!
Beautifully expressed, the bittersweet agony of nostalgia. Thanks .
Beautiful to read Lopa. Feeling blessed at the end of the day.
Thanks a lot for all your lovely comments, Prahallad jee, Bina, Sunil Kaushal jee!
Regards and best,
Lopa.
I love every word of it.it took me into trance where I could visualize it.
Simply Superb, enjoyed reading this lovely poem dear Lopa.
Nostalgia…. A universal feeling…
Superb expression…
A delightful read.
Beautiful