Details |
Chavin Munasinghe Poem
I must confess that I once dreamt
Of a knight of noble honor
He existed in the first specs of my memory
Which grows weaker as my mind grows ever-expanding chasms.
He was there that day, in the field
When the plump lady lay the tablecloth on the grass.
He looked a sight, I could see him in the house looking out at us
His armor coated in soot and dirt, his pockets bulged with the scant spoils of battle
A stark contrast to the vision of yellow daffodils, blue skies, and clean, green grass.
I was angry at him, for he could have donned his armor away
His tired face had upset me so, why did he have to ruin this beautiful sight?
He disappears inside, a somber walk
I was pleased back then, I'd secretly hoped he wouldn't come join us
He'd look rather odd, for we did look ever so pretty.
Those memories of him were very much the same
He'd rarely look happy, or clean
I'd shout at him often, for he stank of coal and mud
He wouldn't say much, just walk away
A broken figure
A hollow man in that suit of tin.
But as my visions grew hazy and the sun grew dimmer
I feel the rush of panic as I grapple onto my memory.
Things began to change since that day in the barn
Since the day I had that awful fall.
Nothing to it really, nothing to make a fuss over
It was all rather peculiar if you ask me.
One day, the plump lady disappeared
The knight looked everywhere for her
And wept when he couldn't find her.
I looked at him, kneeling out among the scarecrows
Trembling shoulders and cold tears
He looked rather displeased.
I live in a chair now, a god-awful thing
Groans under my weight and quite arduous to sit in.
But the knight would sew pillows for me
I was rather surprised, I thought he'd be cross
After all, it was but a few days since I had shouted at him...
The knight rarely left my sight
He would wash me in the evenings, and don me with fresh clothes
He would rise early and bring me breakfast
He'd rub my feet and massage my temples, and the pain would cease...
I try to ask him his name, but he never understands me
He smiles sadly and caresses my cheek every time I speak to him.
It is rather frustrating.
And at night, he would carry me and place me on the thin bed
And lay on the floor close by.
Often, I'd hear him sobbing silently
Holding onto a small picture of the plump lady.
I wish I could comfort him
For all his frustrations, he is a rather gentle man.
I wish I could ask him what's wrong
But I don't know his name.
Copyright © Chavin Munasinghe | Year Posted 2021
|
Details |
Chavin Munasinghe Poem
I stand at the crossroads
Of a choice that tempts both halves of my soul
The one on the left is sunny
The gravel is smooth and the light bounces off gleaming grass
The edges blossom in vivid colors
And the sky is bluer than I had ever seen before.
And at the end, she stands, alone
She’s waiting, beckoning me to join her
Like the gold at the end of the rainbow
Only there appeared to be no rain…
Her, and her hazel eyes and her beautiful smile
I see her clear as day, waiting for me
I feel my heart rush and my legs scream for me to run to her
The sun touches my skin like a golden kiss
And my eyes succumb to the beauty of it all…
Her arms outstretched and behind her is the world
The world is heralding love and eternal joy
It calls out to me to walk this path
It offers me a single gift… to be in the arms of my one true love
And live life in eternal utopian light.
But I chose to walk the other path…
A turbulent earth, where rain dampens the ground
And makes the gravel a slippery trap,
Shrouded in the black clouds and thorny shrubs.
This path is a dark one, one that has changed me
A life where days last twice as many hours
And the edge of the game lies in the numbers
With every passing day, I grow more mechanical
Like a bird of prey, descending upon weaker hunt
And living in constant fear of being hunted myself.
But every now and then I sit at the old oak table
And stare out the windows of my home.
Out there, far away I still see her
She is still happy, her eyes are still as beautiful
Her smile is still as kind
She is not alone anymore, she is in the arms of another
I see her arms draped around his neck,
Her touch as soft as a feather,
Her breath, a fog of whispers.
They walk away, hand in hand
But she looks back at me a final time,
One last smile of joy,
A painful reminder of what could have been.
She inspires me as well
I return back and allow the ink to dance on paper.
This is what helps me remember
To feel the deep sting of pain and loss
To yearn for the sun when all I have is rain
To feel emotion so deeply that it helps me live
Live vicariously through the characters of a life loved and lost
Forever in the chasms of a distant world.
Copyright © Chavin Munasinghe | Year Posted 2021
|