i am tired of sending
pieces of myself to you,
one at a time
through my songs, my rhymes
through those countless hours
we spent in quietude.
like shattered pieces of glass
they lie,
disfigured,uncautioned, untouched,
covering the floor
of your 8*7 bedroom.
do me a favour,
after you sweep them out
of your room and life,
return them to me
i want to live.
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You know, sometimes the best pieces come into form when one is over-flowing with nihilism. Melancholy flows in the veins of every poet, I assume.
ReplyDeleteI see you're a fan of Truffaut. If you've seen even one film of his, you become his fan. I take you enjoy watching films. Neruda writes the kind of poems I feel I can relate to. Just saw one of the films made on him and his relationship with an Italian postman, while he was in exile : Il Postino. If you haven't seen it, you must.
good one.. but i was hoping this to come from you a bit earlier..
ReplyDeletecoming back to life.. han ??
:)
Five silver rings : Oh yes, i am a fan of Truffaut though I haven't watched much of his works. I'd love to..
ReplyDeleteAnd hey, thanks for the movie recommendation. I am obliged.
Aman : Well, i guess so.. It has happened before.
ReplyDelete:)
You should watch Truffaut's 'Day for Night'... it's a splendid film on what difficulties directors face with the pre-production and production process of making a film, including dealing with the whims of the actors on set--personally and professionally. It has Jean-Pierre Leaud (from 400 Blows) all grown up. Again, a brilliant film :)
ReplyDeleteasish, came here from a comment on a blog about into the wild. Good poem dude! sort of describes my present state ! :)
ReplyDeletePan : Thanks man.
ReplyDeleteAnother 's' there would've made an ass out of me..
;)
good one ashish...
ReplyDelete