Tea parties and stabs of invisible knives,
Makeshifts and deliberations of infidel wives,
Golden locks fluffing under nervous straw hats,
Mediterranean winds and mechanical rats
Telegrams and noisy facsimiles,
Maniacal laughs and evil smiles,
Wandering eyes behind Rembrandts fake,
The unmowed lawn , the blood on the rake
Corrupt accomplices and crystal balls,
Double-crossing bears and voodoo dolls,
Bullet-trains and bullets in brains,
The unassuming suspect’s innocence remains
The attention-deprived sleuth with the magnifying glass,
A trusty sidekick and a voluptuous lass,
A love affair maybe, and possibly some heat,
And then suddenly, all fades to deceit!
Magistrate courts and Scotland yard,
The all-knowing madman reciting the bard,
Secret talismans and cryptic obfuscations,
The cold-blooded murders’ juvenile hesitations
A wicked hunch then, Ah, the concluding clue!
Candle wax stuck under the prosthetic shoe,
It’s over, you think, and pay entertainment’s tax,
But what unfolds is an anticlimax
Pornographic flashbacks, and anxious gasps,
Everyone gathers around the fireplace like wasps,
An unexpected confession and the vindicated smile,
Oh wasn’t this all just worth your while?
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- suraj sharma
- my mind, therefore, becomes this outstretched field of immeasurable serenity, which, although illuminated at angles awkward and unfamiliar to my eyes - is neither dark nor twilit. The strange lighting turns the vacuous foreplay of shadows chasing shadows into an euphoric, almost utopian feeling which is held in suspension as long as this configuration of appearances beckons the restlessness of reason ever forward into the uncharted hinterlands of imagination while at the same time compelling me to bless the lighting director.
1 comments:
Was just wondering... do you find the Mediterranean winds in your poem to be harsh or light winds? Usually they are very light but cold...
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