MOONLIGHT AND DREAMZ

Welcome to my world of dreams where imagination and reality, fancy and truth, laughter and tears move hand in hand. I will let you have a glimpse at the share of my own sky, sometimes sunshine bright, and sometimes with rainstorm. I will take you to memories that are like a serene glow of moonlight, a whisper of mountain breeze, and a rushing gushing brook.

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    Wednesday, May 23, 2012

    untitled...


    Sometimes in the past or
     may be a few decades ago
    I had hidden myself in a painting. 



    but the noise of colours annoy me now.
    The four seasons from the painter’s
     deft stroke whirl and roll in a frenzy
    and I can’t stop my tears.
    And the familiar doorway and this white wall;
    they appear fearfully dreary.
     

    I want to step out.
    I need to find myself.
    But I have forgotten
    in which one did I hide myself!

     
     



    And where beginning to repeat each other:

    He was her

    And she was him,

    She was her

    And he was her as well,

    She was, she wasn’t,

    And he was them,

    Or something like that.



    Especially in the morning,

    Until they’d sorted out

    Who was who,

    From where to where,

    Why this was and not that,

    A lot of time elapsed,

    Time poured awaay like water.



    Occasionally they wanted to kiss each other

    But realised, at some point,

    That they were both her —

    Easier just to repeat.



    Then they’d start yawning with fear,

    A yawn like soft wool,

    Which could even be crocheted

    This way:

    One was yawning very carefully

    The other was holding the ball.

    I want to build myself a house

    As far away as possible

    From all the things

    I know.



    As far away as possible from the mountains

    Out of which squirrels leap in the morning

    Like apostles in a clock

    Naive beyond belief.



    And I don’t want it on the shore

    Of that white tiredness

    Where I could see through every window

    An enamelled scale.



    And I know all the tricks

    Of the plain.

    What else can you expect from her

    If at night she frees the grass and wheat

    To grow through your ribs and temples?



    In any place at all

    I’d get so fearfully bored

    I couldn’t even

    Hang

    On my wall

    Pictures

    The doorway would look too familiar

    I’d be feeling I had to move on.



    If only I could build myself a house

    As far away as possible from

    Myself.

    I want to build myself a house

    As far away as possible

    From all the things

    I know.



    As far away as possible from the mountains

    Out of which squirrels leap in the morning

    Like apostles in a clock

    Naive beyond belief.



    And I don’t want it on the shore

    Of that white tiredness

    Where I could see through every window

    An enamelled scale.



    And I know all the tricks

    Of the plain.

    What else can you expect from her

    If at night she frees the grass and wheat

    To grow through your ribs and temples?



    In any place at all

    I’d get so fearfully bored

    I couldn’t even

    Hang

    On my wall

    Pictures

    The doorway would look too familiar

    I’d be feeling I had to move on.



    If only I could build myself a house

    As far away as possible from

    Myself.

    I want to build myself a house

    As far away as possible

    From all the things

    I know.



    As far away as possible from the mountains

    Out of which squirrels leap in the morning

    Like apostles in a clock

    Naive beyond belief.



    And I don’t want it on the shore

    Of that white tiredness

    Where I could see through every window

    An enamelled scale.



    And I know all the tricks

    Of the plain.

    What else can you expect from her

    If at night she frees the grass and wheat

    To grow through your ribs and temples?



    In any place at all

    I’d get so fearfully bored

    I couldn’t even

    Hang

    On my wall

    Pictures

    The doorway would look too familiar

    I’d be feeling I had to move on.



    If only I could build myself a house

    As far away as possible from

    Myself.


    Posted by Celestial Dreamz

    15 comments:

    Vinay Leo R. said...

    Perhaps you just need to jump out rather than search where you had hidden :)

    May 24, 2012 at 12:07 AM
    Claudia said...

    nice...rather surreal...sounds like it's time for a change when the colors start to annoy and the once felt safety seems to be no longer there...sure you gonna find yourself again..

    May 24, 2012 at 1:31 AM
    Brian Miller said...

    the thought to hide yourself in a painting is rather fantastical...but among the chaos of all the color it can surely get uncomfortable...finding yourself again after hiding is not always easy either..

    May 24, 2012 at 4:42 AM
    Ygraine said...

    What an amazing poem!
    I love the idea of being outside and looking in at the place where you are hiding. I could almost tie my mind in knots just trying to work out where you are.
    A brilliant brain-teaser, written with such emotion.
    Love it:)

    May 24, 2012 at 11:49 PM
    The Unknowngnome said...

    Can I help? I have some paint remover. :)

    May 26, 2012 at 3:40 PM
    Ramakrishnan said...

    Very beautifully expressed poem.

    May 27, 2012 at 4:57 PM
    Dark Knight said...

    If you're really lost, you should invest in a good GPS device! :-P

    May 29, 2012 at 6:54 PM
    Rose said...

    This poem makes me feel sad as it tells of something that has transpired over the period of a very long time. the sense of being invisible is most tangible and the feeling you instill with the loss of sense of direction is unsettling even though or perhaps because it is clear that the surroundings are so familiar. Well done! I love the phrase 'the noises of the colours annoy me' brilliant painting:D I would guess you would be behind the brightest colour Moon:)

    June 1, 2012 at 2:18 AM
    Doña Eñe said...

    This poem expresses the searching of yourself very well, but if you keep trying to escape from your own identity, you will never find who you really are.
    Where are you in the painting (= this world)...? Break that white wall and look into "your colour", your favourite season.
    Good luck, Moon.
    A hug.
    :)

    June 7, 2012 at 5:53 PM
    Jack said...

    C D,

    One in search of true self told so well.

    Take care

    June 13, 2012 at 4:59 PM
    Unknown said...

    of course the real tragedy of colours is not how loud they are, but the stains they leave...

    June 20, 2012 at 11:28 PM
    Brian Miller said...

    always good to see you....you are doing well?

    June 23, 2012 at 4:16 PM
    Victoria said...

    This is so gorgeous. I love the colors, the concepts, the emotions. Wow!

    June 23, 2012 at 11:58 PM
    Jeevan said...

    Beautiful poem! Its glad to be hidden among colors as a lovely painting :)

    June 24, 2012 at 2:51 PM
    Rose said...

    Hey Girl what you doing down there? Haven't seen you for ages Moon, what up? Miss you, hope to see you soon :D

    August 22, 2012 at 1:28 AM

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Dr Baishali Bhaumik Mitra

Dr Baishali Bhaumik Mitra
I walk through the known and unknown errors of life ... and sometimes or often when words pour on my soul ... from right and left and here and there and from everywhere, I write poems. My poems are born out of the communion of honey brown dreams and turquoise loneliness ...

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Accepting with gratitude from Jingle poetry potluck
for my poem CANCER

accepting with gratitude

accepting with gratitude

thanks Jingle

thanks Jingle

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accepted with gratitude from poetry potluck - +weekly poet award

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