Unfettered and Feathered

It is obscene
To write a poem
When someone knows what you’re writing
Poems are like breasts on a sculpture
To be moulded in love and secrets
Away from prying judgmental eyes

They begin like a need and a fulfilment
On the same table
For me to concoct a combination
And intoxicate myself.

I am indifferent to the winter
I have you now
As the evoker of my poems
Rain spray in the window
At midnight
Is my forgotten lover.
I have you now
As the kisses.
My imagination has reclined
On a stone over there
Amid the wild thorns.
I have you now
As peace-bringer and love.

Incompleteness is a strong memory
Like all strong memories,
It is missed.

I have a new blanket now
Made of all the feathers I ran after
And the dandelion seed’s halo
Completeness smells like
Pepper in soup
Coffee at noon
Completeness used to be a fleeting
Migratory bird
Now it is a blanket
All the feathers and flight
Consolidated.

This is one of my better poems
Evidence that I am aliver
Than ever.
It is long, I want more
It won’t flicker like the dying candle
Will not sleep
Plays peek-a-boo from under that blanket.

I was weary
Wild-haired and hungry-eyed
Starved.
Now I am contented
As a plump child with milk
Layers and layers of love
Dimples and peace. πŸ™‚

And…
How could I forgetΒ giggles! πŸ™‚

7 thoughts on “Unfettered and Feathered

  1. @ Venkat

    I wrote one more the night before I wrote this. I wrote this in the early morning. I’ll post that soon.. *giggle* πŸ™‚

    @ analog kid

    Whoa.. nice idea. But “the american prayer” is god level! πŸ™‚

  2. I love a moment in a poem when the pen goes down and the poet says something utterly frank. Bravo for “This is one of my better poems”. It took me completely by surprise and made me laugh. Loved the feather theme too and the child plump with milk.

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