Monday, September 24, 2007


Down the rusted stairs which go
round and round,
In that little white room-
That's where they met.
She came looking for the dreams he sold,
As he sat painting dreams with cigarette smoke...
She looked around,took a chair,
He weaved dreams into the air.
The keyhole brought in a streak of dust-
It went through the rings of smoke he drew.
A hint of smile played on her lips,
She knew this was the one she wanted.
He sold it for a tear and a half...,
And the bargain was made.
The dream would be lived when the westward wind
Would bring in clouds of rain.
The tears would be shed by these clouds-
On his broken windowpane.
She looked through the keyhole and felt the sun,
Maybe,tomorrow,it will rain again...


Neel said...

Nice images... very you!!

Shreya said...

its really very beautifully written..:)

Lucid Darkness said...

One of your best pieces of writing that I've read.


The Mad Girl said...

amazing!!!I ditto lucid of your best that i have read.beautiful!

^*^Clouds^*^ said...

"The tears would be shed by these clouds"

Beautiful imagery..seriously beautiful!

weevil girl said...



onnesha said...

you weave very strong images through your words.

Dream Baron said...

I will NOT dare to make an ad hoc comment like...ok i do not wish to belittle my fellow bloggers but there is a lot more to the poem than interesting imagery...this one came from outside the world..just super!!!!
certain expressions reminded me of my poetry...:-)