In there, in that book of poetry,
Were unpredictable leaps.
To unknown sensations
And unforeseen lands.
Her fingers pry it open
With deliberate indiscrimination;
Anxious for her daily gift.
Will it be Pablo speaking off love,
Or Tennyson telling her about kings?
Or her life summed in four lines
Ironically attributed to “Anon”
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
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10 comments:
what a lovely gift!!! and all the more better for reading that way.
Lovely!
for a second i thought your are writing about shreemoyee..:).
Oh, I love this, Parth!!! It reminds me of the time I was a subscriber to a "poem a day" site. I would open my e-mail expectantly never quite knowing if it would be a love poem, a poem of nature, a haiku...it was, just like you said, like opening a gift.
Really enjoyed reading this, thanks!
@Mystic Rose, Radha: Thanks :-)
@Pallavi: Really? We'll let Shreemoyee comment on the veracity of your theory :-)
@Lotus Reads: Though I never subscribed to a-poem-a-day, I used to follow AWAD (a word a day) very regularly in college, especially while preparing for my GRE. Used to thoroughly enjoy that.
yeah, even i was reminded of Minstrels' subscription (despite u saying 'her' fingers pried it open:)...
loved the last couple of lines...
Awesome !!! :)
Depends on the four lines I guess :)
@Frissko, Rags: Thanks :-)
@Shreemoyee: Seems like a good incentive for you pen them down :-)
Nice :)
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