An aborted song
This is an aborted poem. Have stared at it for long. I refuse to work out a final paragraph. The girl beneath is contrapuntal to the poem: she, it appears, is not entertaining questions and has all the answers. Why do girls, sometimes, appear to have all the answers?
What are you searching for in the
Cleavages of clouds, in the
Winds in the weeds in the grass?
Whom are you searching out in the
Ribbons of crowds, in the
Skies full of digital dust?
What are you searching in the
Words you have hurt, in the
Echoes that you’ve heard in the halls?
Whom are you searching in the
Names you have spurned, in the
Bodies which are waiting to be balled?
There is nothing worth searching
When the angels are dead and stoned
The lord has forsaken the poets
And the poet in the lovers is mourned
It is jigging time…
Why are you waiting for the
Lips to land, for the
Footsteps in the sands of your skin?
Why are you waiting for the
Baby to scream, for the
Saint to deliver the dream?
Why are you waiting for the
Dance to unfurl, for the
Notice to announce the team?
Why are you waiting for the
Plague to hit, for the
Enemies to make their retreat?
There is nothing worth waiting
When the whistle is already blown
The lord has forsaken the lovers
And love from the prayers are gone
It is payback time…
When will you do it boy
How will you do that what
Might turn you into the man?
Where will you do it girl
When will you prove your worth
And take my world in your hand?
Why don’t we uproot and rip
All those wires and circuits
That bind us the way we are defined
When will I cease writing
And I will really mean
Everything I’ve hatched and have designed…
Image Courtesy: Untitled by Sebastian Pfnuer from FILE Magazine
…and a scene from Jean Renoir’s Une Partie de Campagne (1936)
she seems quite confused in a strange way ….but i guess ,most of us are at some time
Life’s Elsewhere: Does she seem confused? How?
I don’t think it’s confusion. Its that ancient play between the chains and the wings…to fly free one must have felt the hard shackles on one’s limbs too, else the flight would lose its meaning.
“What are you searching for in the
Cleavages of cloud…”
these opening lines are insane, and the search begins within. I think you will never find the final stanza, for then, the universe shall end.
Life’s Elsewhere: Probably. I struggled with this for weeks and then pragmatically decided to give it up. The photograph reminded me of the swinging sequence of Satyajit Ray’s Charulata and Jean Renoir’s Une Partie de Campagne (which I previously referred to here). Okay, lemme link to the video!
If the girl has got all the answers its probably because she is viewing things from a different perspective. The search begins anew where one tends to feel “There is nothing worth searching”.- a new search with an altered vision. This quest in turn is made possible by all that binds us down. The whole thing is like an enormous circle. That girl can answer only because she knows the questions.
Wow, amazing. I don’t think you should say aborted. I read the whole thing before I read the title/explanation and it actually seemed like an ending to me.
To me the poem seems a debate between planning and doing, living and thinking, body and its impulses and the mind or soul and its desire to understand. The rhymes are very subtle. It makes me want to sing the song, although no tune comes to mind…
Life’s Elsewhere: Oooh! Welcome back Lou!