Last night, while shifting in an uneasy slumber,
I saw them all. I saw those faces on my wall.
They winked and smiled, stunned in wonder,
For I had surprised them, and invited them all.
I drew them on my wall, canvas of fickle whims.
Each of their expressions – sadness, disquiet,
Laughter, agony – I imagined hard and painted.
New feelings surfaced; appeased emotional riot.
Each scorn, and all the love, it breathed anew;
One by one I saw them live again on my wall.
Wanton hair flew amuck, so did nascent smiles,
Sunshine skipped around; I was there to see it all.
For so long I had ignored them in my vanity;
But they were there for me, at my beck and call.
One wistful pleading, or a fall from humility
Was all it needed to bring my faces to my wall.
They pondered why I was being so generous;
But little did they know about my dirty secret.
My fears had instigated this party so frivolous;
Fears so dark that even in my sleep I had fret.
But this time I have vowed not to let them go.
(And even in my dreams I promised them so)
For what’s a canvas with just blankness to show?
I hope the feeling lasts just long enough to grow.
I saw them all. I saw those faces on my wall.
They winked and smiled, stunned in wonder,
For I had surprised them, and invited them all.
I drew them on my wall, canvas of fickle whims.
Each of their expressions – sadness, disquiet,
Laughter, agony – I imagined hard and painted.
New feelings surfaced; appeased emotional riot.
Each scorn, and all the love, it breathed anew;
One by one I saw them live again on my wall.
Wanton hair flew amuck, so did nascent smiles,
Sunshine skipped around; I was there to see it all.
For so long I had ignored them in my vanity;
But they were there for me, at my beck and call.
One wistful pleading, or a fall from humility
Was all it needed to bring my faces to my wall.
They pondered why I was being so generous;
But little did they know about my dirty secret.
My fears had instigated this party so frivolous;
Fears so dark that even in my sleep I had fret.
But this time I have vowed not to let them go.
(And even in my dreams I promised them so)
For what’s a canvas with just blankness to show?
I hope the feeling lasts just long enough to grow.
hmm..poetry's very subjective no?
ReplyDeletebut this sounds eerily familar, because the faces on my wall, are all my posters and I don't have the heart to take down that old torn eminem one, and he follows me whatever I do. he approves of this post btw..:D
subjective?
ReplyDeletei thought we lived in an age of objectivities. ahh. i must refer to The Guide again. i think i must have missed out on some part about poetry.
MY faces were strangely distant and frighteningly familiar. not a good thing when one has been trying to avoid them. baah.
oh yes, the martin on my wall says thankyou.
kuchh mazaa nahi aaya..sorry but it sounded like a nursery rhyme at times
ReplyDeleteThe rhyming seem a bit too strained in this one. The second last line was good though.
ReplyDeletemartin..:scratches head: as in Steve?
ReplyDeleteoh no no! Chris ofcourse, yeah, he's on my softboard too..that scientist.
:(
ReplyDeleteC'mon say it. Say it's pathetic.
Euphemisms don't come that handy when criticism is concerned.
Woman: That line was good because it was stolen from my comment on your blog. Shit.
El: Yes. Yes. That one. Duhh!
Piper: Oh please!