time of death.

by prasanna   May 3, 2020


the cries of the lark do me in,
carrying with it – the eastern winds
that smell of nostalgia, jasmines
and orchids. gently, the soul
marinates in the unsaid, stewing
verses from the emotions unnamed.
filling the body, the vessel with
much needed poetry before it
dissipates and the heart adjourns
permanently. i’m exhausted from
tending the watchfire. most nights,
i pray for a dreamless sleep – dreams
are taxing on the soul, teasing it with
the poison of hope. the heart offers
no respite either, beating piano
compositions and coursing violently
with verses of you – i promised myself
this time, this poem would be free
of you. when death comes knocking,
the water emulsifies into oil without
stabilizing agents, and by that i mean
the hurt dissipates before breaking
down into toxins. the stars are plentiful,
eyes filled with light, the heart fixates on
a song. everything begins with death;
the sudden forgetting of the next chapter’s
beginning.

i've already conquered death;
it’s living that i struggle with.

3


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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by Star

    I have read this soooo many times. And I was trying to find the right time to comment, to at least leave a decent comment.

    First of all, I love how there’s a period in the title, it’s one thing that pulls me into a poem. The title is calling someone dead and the first line of the poem is almost the complete opposite of the that. The lark is an early riser bird, so the opening line is like waking up instead of dying.

    I do agree, dreams are many times draining. It is said the dream are made up by our minds, sleep is the time when we want to stop thinking be free of the world. Losing this time of comfort to dreams is exhausting. I know this really well.

    The use of water emulsifying into oil, and the other way around which is the common one is interesting. I dont know how to explain this, but water is a necessity to us, so the water breaking into particles dispersed in oil is like taking away life. Then you explain that hurt break into toxin. Everyone gets hurt, but not everyone feels like the hurt may kill them.

    I feel there was some narration here like this part:
    “ and by that i mean”
    ^
    But it conveyed this piece in a realistic way, if that makes sense.

    The ending lines hits hard.
    You’ve been writing really powerful pieces this past month. It feels like you already pushed yourself out of your comfort zone but you’re enjoying it or maybe finding peace? :)

  • 3 years ago

    by Sunshine

    it's a killer when someone pens down something that connects with you. What a vivid refreshing piece from a poetic perspective, very elegant!
    And you state some facts here! dreams are really draining...they do give you hopes. I hate dreams too. Such a disappointment when you wake up. Those last two lines... they hit hard. So sad. So me. I am touched by this piece... it's really one of your best!

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