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Minakshi Balasubramaniam Poem
The mercy dance of the mind.
The merry dances of All
but most is most
when
mercy in its dance skips into a treat of arms and charms.
‘cause then they won’t mercy that mind at all.
dream girl they called it
hands that hold
growing old fluctuates
between that mercy mind.
Someday
I know its merry dance will bring a gumption of events.
So mercy dance, dance upon this floor
that writes and marries away its mind into some prose of ‘some’ reality and cause
So
dream they must.
But dream not alone
Copyright © Minakshi Balasubramaniam | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Minakshi Balasubramaniam Poem
Knock knock whose there?
Me, the blind man was the response.
And where from? asked the other
From the catacombs that cover years of deaths and years of solitude in caskets of not so forgotten years.
Where then and why are you blind? asked the dim voice from within the sarcophagus that laid asleep within its dark encased catacomb.
Well. it laughed.
That’s because I asked too much and was forced not to see and not to judge with my eyes.
But then, I smell.
I perceive what was upon those thirty nights and thirty days
even when the sun has lapsed
‘cause then when I feel the sun go down
all is quiet-
within my blindness.
The moon uplifts
For me to judge and proclaim
What is to then be seen
within my nose that smells.
Ahh… the other sighed.
Copyright © Minakshi Balasubramaniam | Year Posted 2014
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