redemption: a poem!

so many of them declared me dead
seeing the muse succumbed in gloat
for poems were growl growled
but for me, who has stood
the hearing of deaf
i have chosen to walk away
"from their torments and wretched petticoats";
walking and dragging myself
"for the begging and their mercy laden taunts"
over the belief that, there
not so far away from my view,
lies my beloved, sleeping,
hiding inside a mound of requiem;
and i thrust myself
thinking of each morning i have waited
dreaming of each night i have wandered
in her tender dreams;
for her,
my poems were the corsets
she died into every night,
my poems were the birds
that took wing for her soul.

of late
the muse
she dressed rather unceremoniously
and in her invites
pleasures flew in remorse
so,
i wrote few poems
like dead birds flying and falling
and hiding feathers inside the pages,
like wedged memoirs of cursed duets
sung rather coarsely during mating
of intellects and socialites.

i have chosen to walk away
defeated and terrified
from such rituals of poetic extravagance;
those poems, i am afraid
shouldn't be buried with my dead body
for i will lie next to her
with her favourite poems

*** 01/26/2010 ***