Saturday, June 13, 2009

The Rendezvous

the artist
sits in the quiet corner
of the café

green demons
trickling down his throat

a vortex of bohemian
tunes in his mind

igniting predicaments…

nebulous thoughts crawling in
through the pages

rising through the winds
and morphing into a fireball
of rebel dreams

which collide
with the marble floor
and the walls

echoing through
the empty hole
of his head

he writes
he writes

the letters
dancing to the eerie serenade
of morphined loneliness

figures of stone
all around

his surreptitious eyes
wandering among desecrated

seeking redemption

when his eyes meet
her virgin shadow

there she arrives..

dressed in scarlet

the lucid moon
breathing on her lips

and her beauty
unveiling the atlas
of his lost romance

he captures them
in his memory of fossils
and corpses

as he finds
a cavalcade
of festered imaginations
strolling around

her voice
giving birth to coveted prophets
whispering parables
of love and romance
with every stroke of the finger

and capturing him
in the seductive asylums
of poems and figures

yet again…


  1. Great way to represent the pains that we poets undertake while creation.A birth of an art....reminded me of Kubla Khan by Coleridge.

  2. I loved this! really for not having kept in touch...stay wel...write in to me...I'l always reply..