Pretending that shadows speak to her,
She walks down these darkened streets;
Whispers to moon that nurtures the night,
Listening to rhythm of rain's dancing feet. .
Words of poet acquainted with the Night,
Bewitch less enticing thoughts in his head;
He pretends to listen to his alive companion,
When all he can hear is music of the dead.
She holds the hook that traps your heart,
Ensnaring your soul in her twinkling eyes;
You claim to be enamoured by her beauty,
When all you can see is a mask to her lies.
You give up your heart to the oldest fantasy,
To your dream of what should have been;
Listen to the music that renders you deaf,
To signs that you should have already seen. .
Am I, standing here, your audience of one,
Watching scenes unfold on your life's stage;
Reading and feeling what I don't otherwise,
Puking my revelations on an unmarred page?
Or am I the shadows that walk life with her,
the great old poet's dead memories for him,
The hook that bites into your beating heart,
the symphony of when every light grows dim? .
----Katyaini Ranjan Choudhary
#nurture @writersnetwork #pod @mirakee #shadows#katyaini#musing#moon#stage#contradict#readwriteunite#pages#hate#love#poetrygram#diff_perspectives @readwriteunite #music#poet#robertfrost#frost#thepoetrycommunity
. ---- The poet I am referring to in the second stanza is Robert Frost, one of my favourites. ---- In the fifth stanza, it's a minor allusion to Shakespeare's line--"all the world's a stage and men and women merely players"
I don’t call myself your friendly neighborhood budtender for fun. 😂 almost 4/20! Oh happy days. I get to start out my Christmas selling weed to the beautiful people of Las Vegas! Come visit, you know where I’m at💚🥦