Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Seventy-second Matrimony




She was standing waiting there in the dark
Beside the mute and indistinct lamp-post
The one she has called her own
But tonight he was very late

With cinematic sobriety she has painted her flesh
Her profusely powdered face with surprised lips
Blemished in animated maroon to hide those scars
Like pure white snow soaked in cola
Her hands armed with a wifely satire
Her clothing undaunted and wild
Like secrets polished on a carnival
Perhaps proclaiming a desperate fancy
For a random man who pleases to unravel her

By now she has found a vocation
Leaning by the stunted bewildered lamp-post
Like a daughter lingering on the arms of the frail father
Waiting to leave with the bargain groom

Tonight will be her seventy-second matrimony
As she awaits in silence with her feeble father who
Offers her a faint silhouette on the broken pavement
It’s all this father can gather for her nocturnal dowry

The night passes by with its insane autographs,
She observes a gust of air waking the stray bitch
The count of the newborns from the night before didn’t match
The mere thought of the loosened ones coming under a bus
Speared her for a second, her shadow rippled

Squeaking street-rats fighting for sorry crumbs is routine
Tonight they reminded her of the siblings –
Consuming her world with their eyes
A constant adversary till she was seventeen and free

The second window on the right of the balcony suddenly lit up
Two hands picking a tumbler lingered for a moment and vanished
She detected a tidy figure behind the balcony curtains
A face, faintly discernible, was observing her stillness
The outline was unmoving silent and secluded, like men,
Her nightly patrons who leave silver-linings at the end
She couldn’t stare back or pierce through his gaze
He disappeared into reality leaving behind the same darkness

The abnormal night in all its acumen played on
The shabby father she leant on was run over
By an endless army of silly diligent ants
She moved her posture and eyeballed this army
She chose an ant that was speeding down just like her
Kissing every other night on her way down

She greeted the rest of the night with a lonely sob or two
And walked into the dawn listless and uncertain
Perhaps her seventy-second was God himself
Consummating those vows deep within




Copyright BluEJoKe (2010)

12 comments:

  1. Apt choice of words and pictures....
    "Leaning by the stunted bewildered lamp-post
    Like a daughter lingering on the arms of the frail father
    Waiting to leave with the bargain groom"
    Unusual , simply beautiful image!!! kudos..

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  2. fantastic......
    when the poem ended..my reaction was phew!

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  3. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  4. Cut a piece of her heart and showcase it in Louvre's coz thats all left of her and that like a diamond or rather the nabhi, where it all begins and ends yet is indestructible even in the funeral pyre.

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  5. 'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
    'Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
    'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
    'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'
    I think we are in rats' alley 115
    Where the dead men lost their bones.
    'What it that noise?'
    The wind under the door. 118
    'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?'
    Nothing again nothing.
    'Do
    'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
    'Nothing?'
    I remember
    Those are pearls that were his eyes.
    'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'

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  6. 'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
    'Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
    'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
    'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'
    I think we are in rats' alley 115
    Where the dead men lost their bones.
    'What it that noise?'
    The wind under the door. 118
    'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?'
    Nothing again nothing.
    'Do
    'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
    'Nothing?'
    I remember
    Those are pearls that were his eyes.
    'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'

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  7. Awesome, a very usual topic for a blogger, but an absolutely unusual way of presenting it. I must say you are a welcome relief to the stereotype of a banker!

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  8. thanx dear lady... bt im curious... watz a banker stereotype???

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  9. Someone who is as boring as me and my roomies! :) and if you know my roomies then you know if I'm being sarcastic or genuine!

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  10. I'm sorry lady... i don't know u.... neither do i know your roomies!!! but surely interested to know you all... atleast for "banking" together... buzz me on my mailbox... and pls read me and let me know what u think... Ciao...

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  11. U know my roomies! They are the ones who asked me to read your blog and some other blogs cos they knew that I liked reading and writing blogs, I will mail you the details on a slightly less public forum I suppose, tc.

    PS: you write well, there's no doubt about that, but its all really deep dark stuff, or maybe I'm just too shallow for this blog! :)

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So what do ya think??