Friday, 28 November 2014

Read if you wish




Read me, if you wish, like a two-fold pamphlet
handed out at street corners by children
forced out of childhood early, their eyes set
into surly orbits of need, desperate.
Patches of limp lines, thrust out as and when


the lights turn red.  A stereotyped gimmick
thrown into cars caught with windows open
weird damaged overlarge wings in that traffic
light, and sudden fright turning to a quick
indifference, “It’s that same old thing again”.


Or read me like frayed love letters, blinking
between dusty pages. The books from when men
still wrote letters, fancy penmanship and ink
counted for, not much, but still worth something.
Pressed, not thrown.  A shade of precious even,


preserved for a future nostalgia fix;
though the addressee didn’t know it then.
Or read me as I am, forget the tricks
of metaphor, of angles and semantics,
just words written into verse and plain spoken.





3 comments:

  1. Hi Nila .. Read me if you Wish ... sometimes I take a while to read things ... so the 'if you wish' makes sense .. and sadly reading is about the choice to read ... so many words written solely by the authors .. but then they escape and get taken on the wind. Good for you .. cheers and have a happy weekend -Hilary

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  2. :) This just speaks to me on so many levels. Feels good to read your work after so long Nila, I just stumbled on your Facebook page today! Congratulations :)

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  3. Hi Hilary, so many authors/poets write solely for themselves without keeping their readers in focus...you too have a great weekend.

    Sabeeha! Good to hear from you. The FB page is pretty recent, glad you found it :) Hope all is well and happy.

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