Skip to main content

Thoughts about a Woman

Her harsh red lips, moist with blood,
Trembled in trauma, while her breasts;
Like disoriented tombs, hung
lifeless and battered, they laid to rest
all youthful vigor and zest.

Men used to hunt her (ferociously),
Wrecking the erotic physique,
Murdering her identity,
Each night she was killed,
Each morning she resurrected,
Though without her will.

I ran my hands along her nudity,
Her robe was kept beside,
Fresh because she seldom wore it,
She closed her eyes, waiting,
But no sensual motifs rose,
I saw a portrait waiting to be made,
A poem waiting to be written!
 
She breathed and slept in my arms,
Her eyes drifting away into a dream,
Maybe for the first time.

Comments

  1. Claudia23 March 2014 at 02:21

    it is good that you held her and let her sleep and dream... sounds like a rough life of being used... she will appreciate a sensitive portrait and poem...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Mary23 March 2014 at 04:03

    Oh my, what a vivid portrait. I am saddened for her difficult life of. Ring used and a used. She deserves a night of restful dreams....and many more.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sumana Roy23 March 2014 at 04:49

    nice to see that she got a fresh lease of life and breathed...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Brian Miller23 March 2014 at 05:08

    when someone else sees what is inside us, it allows us to dream for sure...it has made her feel alive, perhaps for the first time and see herself as something greater...

    ReplyDelete
  5. NataĊĦek23 March 2014 at 05:52

    to be seen, to start breathing for the first time... beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Marcoantonio Arellano (Nene)23 March 2014 at 06:45

    enjoyed very much this piece. shows your inner empathetic side while giving a woman a space of humanity in lieu of a primal patriarchal world.

    gracias

    ReplyDelete
  7. Sherry Blue Sky23 March 2014 at 11:34

    It sounds lovely and safe fort her, being held as she slept. Beautiful, Anand.

    ReplyDelete
  8. ZQ23 March 2014 at 13:19

    Wonderfully written!
    ZQ

    ReplyDelete
  9. Susan23 March 2014 at 13:38

    Still trying to picture those breasts ... perhaps the narrator is the earth, in whose arms is rest?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Nataraja | The Lord of Dance

Art : Nataraja by Satheesh Kanna All the reverberations of the world nestled In a tiny speck that glowed bright, Like beads in a necklace, It united with The mighty hands of a violent Lord. The speck, moved along like a Cobra, It wrestled to be released, A space Overpowering, yet calm waited For the Cobra to taste his infinity. The Lord held the flames of wrath on his left hand, He clutched onto it with a rage unmatched, With it all powers shall crumble down, With it all creations shall see annihilation. Umbraged, liberated and fearsome, The speck escaped his hands, Fire Spread all around the Lords' head, For once The speck was here, next it was there. It encircled the Lord in a heavenly tune, The frenzy uplifted the Lord, His hands moved to push the flame, Onto the circling speck. In a flash of ambrosial light and sound, The speck exploded and whizzed all around, The Lord went onto a fury of power, He felt his waist c...
25 comments
Read more

Loops of Love

Abstract : The Color Red We are seeds of the same flower, Carried by wind to poles apart, Time brings your fragrance, The spores bring your love! We are tunes of an unwritten song, Playing endlessly on and on, With the memory of each other to Keep us by, and no words to disturb Our plights. We are the dreams of a child, His agonizing fears, his deep love, His beautiful garden, his solitary cradle, His toys, and his oedipus wraths. We are memories waiting to be made, Memories of guilt, memories of crime, Memories of sorrow, memories of love, Memories that nostalgia ignites! We are half drunk cups of coffee, Cold yet waiting to be consumed, Useless and beyond all hopes, We usually get flushed out. We are a poet's funereal thoughts, Which he could never pen down, Yet in his dying cells, we live on Undisturbed! We are souls that meet after death, Forced to live apart when alive. We meet after the pains and tears ...
22 comments
Read more

The Search For Beauty | Dedicated to All Mothers on this Mother's Day

Painting : Quench by Katie.M.Berggren O, beautiful world, What grace and love do you keep? I walked along your coast, To find a shore of charm,   But came back with nothing at all. Abashed, destroyed and polluted, The world belongs in disarray, No song is sweet, No flowers are bright, No beings provide delight. Amidst my falling hopes, I stumbled upon a moving view, A snuggled baby in a mother's arms, And two bright eyes providing shade, Solace and eternal love. In those arms rests the comfort of all, In those eyes remains brightness paramount, In those beats, hidden, is love beyond, In her heart reside the beauty I searched for!
21 comments
Read more