Monday, September 24, 2007

Godot..

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...

8 comments:

Neel said...

Nice images... very you!!

storyteller said...

its really very beautifully written..:)

Lucid Darkness said...

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

Brilliant!

The Mad Girl said...

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

... said...

"The tears would be shed by these clouds"

Beautiful imagery..seriously beautiful!

weevil girl said...

......


yes.

onnesha said...

you weave very strong images through your words.

Ephemera 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...:-)