The taste of world’s last dance lingers upon my lips;
an orb of liquid fire,
where the skin of my grief sheds its leaves—
written in dark letters
upon every single page, it refuses to bite dust, to move ahead.
Name these feelings of mine
as I bequeath my mortality to you, a honeyed nectar
in a chalice half full— one that scrys into for answers;
that’s how the story progresses,
poignant and cleansing the heart of its saltiness.
In defense of dystopia, I am a Poet first
then a realist, dusting roses along the way;
thirty-three years and Spring is over,
my intellect demands that I depart from pavements—
a glossy black asphalt that mourns the living
and leads
to the past, morbidly cold to the touch; it does not breathe.
Why must we chase that which has no desire to be pursued?
The moon, a chaotic rhythm
born of soul; it’s all right to let go, it’s all right to let go.
Photo credits: The Mirage by Alexander Yakovlev, Pinterest
Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United
Hmmm, is it all right though? But perhaps there is no choice. This is sad, bleak, defeatist … and, as always, beautiful.
PS Nice to hear you read it. I have been thinking I must do more of that with my own. You might inspire me to actually do it!
Go for it! 💄❤️
Thank you so much, Rosemary 🙂 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
It was lovely to hear you this poem, Sanaa. The opening lines hooked me immediately – I love the image of the world’s last dance as an orb of liquid fire, lingering on lips. I also like the echo of the orb in the chalice half full of honeyed nectar – poem of golden tones broken up by the dark letters of grief. Great use of alliteration in ‘defence of dystopia’ and the image of a poet ‘dusting roses along the way;’ is stunning.
Awwww gosh! 💄❤️ Thank you so very much, Kim 😍 so glad you enjoyed it! 💄❤️
Sad words and sad voice. Such feelings linger with us a long time . Somehow we have to be strong and bear the pain and know that we can get over it and be happy again. It was lovely to hear your voice Sanaa.
Thank you so much, Robin 🙂 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Just like the moon waxing and waning, we should also be accept the changes.
Definitely 🙂 thanks for stopping by, Vandana 💄❤️
The ebb and flow of life beautifully presented in your poem. I enjoyed hearing you read it!
Thank you so much, Beverly 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Lovely words … ‘I am a Poet first then a realist’ ~ relieved you are a poet first … realism can wait a bit I hope.
It most certainly can! Thank you so much, Helen 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Sometimes it’s more than all right to let go–it’s absolutely necessary. But hearts in love sometimes need the tale to be told gently, just to make that first bit of letting go possible.
Thank you so much, Rommy 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
“In defense of dystopia, I am a Poet first
then a realist, dusting roses along the way
Very interesting lines. The kind that keeps me in contemplation
Happy Wednesday
Much💖love
Thank you so much, Gillena 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Much🌻🌷🌹love …
Poignant, yet so beautiful. The image of grief shedding leaves is quite strong….in fact the entire poem is powerful
Thank you so much, Vivian 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Your closing lines wrap up the sadness, “born of soul; it’s all right to let go, it’s all right to let go”
It is your acceptance of this chapter and your decision to move on.
Thank you so much, Joel 🙂 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Sign of finality? ” I bequeath my mortality to you…” and things get scary. You live while I die? All pretty dark but I still like it.
Thanks for the nice prompt, I used the picture you had here earlier of the two young grass growing from the cracks in the pavement. (I tried to leave a comment, but that wasn’t working so I’m trying again.)
Stay Safe,
..
Thank you so much, Jim 🙂 so good to see you 💄❤️
Oh that walk you can no longer take, the one you must give up…so painful. You have written this with beautiful poetic melancholy.
Thank you so much, Susie 😍 so glad you liked it 💄❤️