talat, denver, rafi
alliyaambal and eleanor rigby
silk route and sindu bhairavi
among others
waft in
flutter in
one after the other - - -
as I sit here and now
the mind plays truant
strays, despite itself.
visits memories
buried under heaps of sunshine and life
the pain of no more music
what sort of heaven can it be?
Beautiful is the word!!
ReplyDeleteI stayed with the poem till the last two lines...something out of reach there.
ReplyDelete@ P.venugopal
ReplyDeleteit belongs to my 'rage to be' blog. now does it make sense?
i posted in this too 'cos it's meant to be a poem
@ swatantra
thanks
Now I understand it. My elder sister went in and out through it strong recently. When she flagged a bit at the beginning I was with her a couple days talking. The thing is to be totally unsentimental: sentiments make you vulnerable, being unsentimental makes you undefeatable. Mine is not knowledge from within, my sister's is. Just as yours is now. Nice poem.
ReplyDeleteThe flow, the silken flow...amazing.
ReplyDeleteAfter reading you, I reflect on how I connect with music... is it just another opiate? Just yet another passing euphoria? I feel terribly sad. Sad that your words made me realize how really empty I am... Thank you.
ReplyDelete