Sin of Semantics by Saima Afreen, wordweavers.in/poetry_2013_shortlisted_5.html Inherited by a sentence What is it that weeps Inside the frontier Between the rivers and mirrors? Darkness s p l i n t e r s as my sun And I — f a l l into a place That stems from you Wounds bloom like morning prayers Flush of glass-doors Brush The paisleys of my shawl — Broken stars are plucked wicks On the roof of eye… Light pregnant with Silence was coppice of dotted lines Oil-lamps glimmer On birth of wet letters Cold, dark Planets Floating on killed papyrus Noah’s Ark Ferried the corpses: Chopped words don’t always Die in a gutter …the gray patch is curled within Deep wine voice Moony blossoms Announce the mist of past: Archangel of waiting lines. Thoughts-winds-feathers Blow As unripe harvest of commas Cascading on Rain curtains That in your world Never found a name Between a blue and a red Night bled Gilgamesh Will wake up the next autumn In the leaves that flew in periods… Mahmoud Darwish Waited too long For Frisky Air To build its nest On his palms Olive years burn With what Saba Arwah s…p…u…n Questions loop, lament, and laugh inside the white night dying for a black moon. Labyrinths always have doors in c—o—r—n—e—r—s of lapis-lazuli. Or perhaps visions will still be stuck in blue flood seeping from footnotes
Posted on: Tue, 16 Jul 2013 08:13:19 +0000
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