Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership
Quote of the Day

Quote Left"A contented mind is the greatest blessing a man can enjoy in this world."Quote Right

by Joseph Addison

  |  Comment

See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places

The Ruba'iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Three

T Wignesan Avatar T Wignesan - LIFETIME Premium Member T Wignesan - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled The Ruba'iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Three which was written by poet T Wignesan. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

Read Poems by T Wignesan

Best T Wignesan Poems

+ Fav Poet

The Ruba'iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Three

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Three

Note:  I do hope it’s clear to readers by now that – strictly speaking – in these ruba’iyat, I deviate from the original Persian medieval model, introduced by Rudaki in Ghazna, in that I do away with the 7-syllable hemistich and even the 14-syllable line of the couplet in  order to create a longer more breathless ruba’i of my own. I adhere only to the intent and the tone at large. Apologies to Master Khayyam and his ilk.

Then as the dawn comes creeping through the dull cold listless haze
Shattered by nitpicking crows still in their tuxedo craze
Raucous squawks remind her to take that woollen mantle off
And stretch her legs just where her feet splintered the brittle glaze

Yet no one had ever seen her curious darling eyes
Her fronds of glaucous eye-lashes lie under thin ice
On some frosty winter morn gusts shake her locks threadbare loose
While some Himalayan pine bucked her will long bent with vice

No frog croaks nor cicadas cut into eerie silence
And the vapours of sticky unkempt limbs hang low and dense
The forsaken dame dreams on as on every December morn
No carbide stench of Bastille Day fireworks will choke her sense

On such lone nights when joggers dare not dig into her sides
She’d unclasp her python coils to search through shopping guides
For sherwanis and sarees to rouse Khayyam from his cup
While the svelte lass from Lahore wanders in her coils besides

Come winter! Come shine! This life’s nothing but a longing grind
Each in his own way dying to find his own special kind
If that happens, will this world be bereft of its only quest
For never does the search bring together two of the right kind!

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013




Post Comments

Please Login to post a comment



A comment has not been posted for this poem. Be the first to comment.