Of love, woe and metaphor

Spread the love

Love is annihilation of consciousness,
with touch as cold as ice, penetrating
deep into a Poet’s bones.

You can feel its heart when storm clouds
rumble in the sky, feel words unblunted
cut through path of every false promise
made.

Love, is the tickle of marigold’s tongue,
a grey lightly raining morning in June,
and poems that bleed beneath harvest
moon.

Can you hear me murmuring its restless
tune?

I devoured a bag of honey-dew wisdom
knowing once the spirit’s rose is dead—
shall fade, which tinged, with colors of
regret.

 

Photo credits: Unsplash

Word list: Bones, annihilation, dead, ice.

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads

28 thoughts on “Of love, woe and metaphor

  1. Magaly Guerrero says:

    Your first stanza hits like a hammer, especially the first line. Love can be such a shocker, a crippling of self (if we don’t keep an eye on its creeping). Annihilation, indeed… Yet, we open our hearts, and whisper, “Have me anyway.”

  2. Ellecee says:

    I love this, especially the first lines
    “Love is annihilation of consciousness, with touch as cold as ice, penetrating deep into a Poet’s bones.”
    and so it is….

  3. kaykuala says:

    knowing once the spirit’s rose is dead—
    shall fade, which tinged, with colors of
    regret

    Love can certainly bring this feeling! Great close Sanaa!

    Hankm

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