Sunday, 15 May 2016

The Spirit of Midnight

Lines of thought
Jumble themselves up in my head
Like woolly yarns of pastel,
Knotty, and tangled, crossing each other
Over and over
Till one knows not beginning nor end.

They slip between my fingers
Like glossy globus pearls
Pitting themselves on the floor,
Scattering everywhere, crushed underfoot.
On all fours, I scramble to gather them in,
My fingers slick with a sweat that seems
Precipitous with the end of reason.

Sleep, the slayer of mundane demons,
Lies forgotten on the crumpled bedspread
Moist with the drool of my meaningless dreams,
Where I still wander in the hope of finding an answer.

I know not what I write
But write I must.
There is a spirit in me that scorches,
Curls tendrils of my hair into feisty disobedience
And demands my obeisance

There's no letting go
Even when the soft threads tighten around me,
Biting into my body to leave dents
And the ravaged pearls take their revenge
In bright spots of crimson red that smudge my fingerprints.

I write, a farewell song,
An elegy, an ode, a hymn,
In desperation to be remembered
Or as a channel for the Unnamed that knows not the limits of Time and Space...
I know not which, but I write.

6 comments:

Ravinder Arora said...

Twice I read. . Excellent!!

Sumi Thomas said...

Thank you for the kind words.

Sumi Thomas said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Team BlogAdda said...

Hi,

Congratulations! Your blog post was featured in the Tangy Tuesday Picks edition on May 17, 2016 at Blogadda.

Please find it here:
http://blog.blogadda.com/2016/05/17/tangy-tuesday-picks-may-blogger-talks

Sumi Thomas said...

Thank you so much. :)

Sumi Thomas said...
This comment has been removed by the author.

Sunday, 15 May 2016

The Spirit of Midnight

Lines of thought
Jumble themselves up in my head
Like woolly yarns of pastel,
Knotty, and tangled, crossing each other
Over and over
Till one knows not beginning nor end.

They slip between my fingers
Like glossy globus pearls
Pitting themselves on the floor,
Scattering everywhere, crushed underfoot.
On all fours, I scramble to gather them in,
My fingers slick with a sweat that seems
Precipitous with the end of reason.

Sleep, the slayer of mundane demons,
Lies forgotten on the crumpled bedspread
Moist with the drool of my meaningless dreams,
Where I still wander in the hope of finding an answer.

I know not what I write
But write I must.
There is a spirit in me that scorches,
Curls tendrils of my hair into feisty disobedience
And demands my obeisance

There's no letting go
Even when the soft threads tighten around me,
Biting into my body to leave dents
And the ravaged pearls take their revenge
In bright spots of crimson red that smudge my fingerprints.

I write, a farewell song,
An elegy, an ode, a hymn,
In desperation to be remembered
Or as a channel for the Unnamed that knows not the limits of Time and Space...
I know not which, but I write.

6 comments:

Ravinder Arora said...

Twice I read. . Excellent!!

Sumi Thomas said...

Thank you for the kind words.

Sumi Thomas said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Team BlogAdda said...

Hi,

Congratulations! Your blog post was featured in the Tangy Tuesday Picks edition on May 17, 2016 at Blogadda.

Please find it here:
http://blog.blogadda.com/2016/05/17/tangy-tuesday-picks-may-blogger-talks

Sumi Thomas said...

Thank you so much. :)

Sumi Thomas said...
This comment has been removed by the author.