man devoid, extinguished moment. Allure of the sea, whispers haunting
and scent of invocation;
what reason is there, then for pungent yet original statement?
I should ignore the stains of hot-pink profanity;
cries of a thousand hordes, saying this is not the way it’s meant to be,
who are they to decide the potential of our voice?
In my drunken state
the darkness takes a chance and stops the clock,
from this land,
a great axiom of archaeological heritages begin to be evidenced,
that is not strictly factual runs the risk of being interpreted as subjective;
cobbles spattered with chai and wreckage of flowers,
what have we come to?
Karachi, Karachi, on this same square the henchmen killed
the only woman
courageous enough to talk, how did we let that happen?
At times the wind from the burning would take
dark kites along
and riders on the carousel would be seen catching petals in midair;
but on that day I thought only of the loneliness of the dying,
of how the trees whose fruit
contributes positively to the economy, began
to feel anguish,
anybody who predicts the death of a city must be birthing galaxies of their own—
the prologues are over, it’s a question now.
Karachi, Karachi, violet dreams replace woe in the shades of our minds;
what once was lost is gained
when the blue wind boy and white horse girl met, the first fall of the awakened
they named it.
It takes only a fleeting moment.
Original poem: Carnal apple, woman filled, burning moon
by Pablo Neruda
Photo credits: Alvaro Castagnet Watercolor City, Pinterest
An early unveiling of the April Poem-a-Day Challenge, Day 7 🥠
Lisa hosts at dVerse and asks to choose one of our favorite
poems and ‘flip the script.’ Come join us! 💝
Posted for Poetics: “Flipping The Meaning,” @dVerse Poets Pub