The poem:
Feeling raindrops on head and hands
The wind blowing hard on face
Making way to some other land
Falling the way, failing the maze
Life ceases to continue, waiting to end
The legs still drag on the sand,
With a mouthful of breath, a hanging head
Making way through the land.
Memories don’t leave, follow like shadows
Thoughts do not desert like everyone else
Hearts bleeding, breasts apart and hollow
Feeling lost, even the pain does not sell.
Existence a mystery, life is a joke
Purpose unknown, meaningless trend
Nursing the wounds with a painful stroke
No tears, no cries, no regret, no lament
Holding tightly thin air around
Looking up to weak sunlight of west
Hanging, just hanging on the dark clouds
Darkness quietly covers the rest
The sun has set the lights are gone
There is pitch-black darkness all around
But hoping against hope to reach the next morn
Lying low, crawling on the ground.
Crawling, crawling, on hands and knees
Dragging the heavy weight
Body wanting to give up and ease
Something just forcing to move ahead
The pain and agony flowing in nerves
Flowing in veins in arteries in blood
The desperation raises an anguishing surge
There is a storm within, a painful flood
The legs stops dragging, crawling on
The mouthful of breath escapes out
The Head hanging now falls upon
With the lips of the face kissing the ground
Misunderstood, disliked, hated everywhere
Discouraged, restricted, detested everywhere
Used, abused, ill-treated everywhere
Within darkness, covered, yet bare she lies there
Undiscovered, unappreciated, unaccomplished everywhere
Unadorned, disliked, unaccepted everywhere
Unheeded, wronged, quieted everywhere
With moon light falling on her face, she lies there
Suppressed, un-helped, afflicted everywhere
Used as an art, for pleasure everywhere
Used as an object of lust everywhere
Now unwanted to all, she lies there.
(June 8, 2008)
1:51 PM
The poet:
This is not going to be an honest poet's note. Primarily because I wrote this poem on June 8, 2008 and its been three years since I wrote it. Interestingly I seldom date and time my poems and mostly leave it to my recollection. I have not gone through it as far as my recollection goes, neither it was a very memorable effort. Hence, as I read it today I think about it more as a critique than as a poet. So obviously not an honest poet's note. However I remember something very clearly. Throughout the poem except for the last three stanzas I was trying to hide the sexual identity of the person. It would be for the readers to express honestly that could they guess whether the person was a man or woman? I may have left hints intentionally, but the wordings were structured so as to disclose the identity in the last part of the poem. Let me know what you feel!
Adios
Subhankar De
aka
Dark-Knight
The image:
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| The Source by Jayne Mccoy |
Credits: The work is completely a product of Jayne Mccoy. It is used here because the blogger feels the painting compliments the poem. It can be found in her blog Jayne Mccoy Artworks: http://jaynemccoyart.blogspot.com/.
