Skip to main content

ART OF SURPRISE


It's first like a thief in the night,
Then it comes like a noon in the night:
Suddenly, it is a heart in a silent pit
That
Makes you Ignorant of what lies in it:
And when you do know
How to get out from such
It hovers; around moving

In its mind to a calm slaughter room of life
It becomes a window this time
A little bit shut from the left
But from the right, it is closed
And as a whole it is all open
And when you try to see what
Lies beyond through it, it becomes
A wall; a concrete wall, hard but has a soft touch
If you leave the wall,
And go back, you have failed
So you go on
Breaking the wall, making a large clear hole
But you do not know whether
You would see what you would not see
Inside this whole:
You pause
And it becomes a light,
A bright one:
It's your birthday.
You smile, so shocked
You laughed, so much grin:
Surprise is what it becomes
Then you realise it's been what
You've always expected
But do not know
Whether it will be or not be.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

God and The Snail: Poetry For Some One Lost Soul

Sometimes it feels Like all is done, That this life of ours Is caught in deadly thorns: From where we cry for help in a land Where to have ears is a great taboo! But in all these... we remember...
2 comments
Continue Reading

WHO DOES THIS BELONG TO? By MIDÉ BENEDICT

This is for those Who see life as an unfair land, Where growth is fairly found only On luck's fragile and ferocious tree: It is for those whose eyes only See reality as a coin Always tossed to uncertainty: For those who see misery As an inescapable ditch, Never to be seen when its mouth agars, Never to be escaped when its venom runs, But to be delivered like a slave for a ritual, Thrown like a cotyledon into dry soil, To germinate failure like a blocked well, Hoping to salvage a droughty throat. For those whose first name is lucky, Whose last name is uncertainty And middle name misery, Know that which you know not that The poison in your tongue is The wine your life drinks; It drinks on and on till stupor calls for death And stupidity dresses its grave Like a young man before a mirror, Staring unthinkingly at his face, Till he sees greyness in his eyes. This is for those who see eye to eye With the words on this slate. Image by Midé Benedict
1 comment
Continue Reading

TIED TO FREEDOM by Mide Benedict

Don’t hold me down L ike I’m in some cave Just like a bird flies Where nothing breathes light Through a hidden dark sky L ike an existence lost in inexistence, Locked up in a bottle     T hat only lives every day in an every minute coffin Tightened with an unbreakable cover.    Free me I said, but you brought me this! What freedom is more painful than   Eye balls without sights; faith without work like To walk on a spot;                    Mountains tied to your legs   While eyes go dark                    As you walk unmoving: In a place surrounded by light;            What a freedom! Image from : http://theadventurehandbook.com
2 comments
Continue Reading