Sunday, March 16, 2008

Kingdoms

The king has no memory
that we were robbed
of metaphors.

Dense amnesia envelops
the slave-child.
The present

would soon be lived through
(but he’d forget).
And the kingdom

has guided channels
serving anaesthetic
to a select few

who feel.

Today, unguarded,
at sundown fled
prisoners

of war
into forests
bearing familiar names

on raw, peevish barks.
Perhaps the Druids
still pray for us.

7 comments:

The Mad Girl said...

Bah!I'm not sure I understand the context but I can sense something.I love the amnesia bit, the escapade of the prisoners of war!

Inam said...

But you found the metaphors again, din't you? perhaps in the tiger-skin bag of the Druids. They pray for you, I think :)

Lovely writing, esp. the very disciplined control over lines and stanzas.

Sayan said...

Beautiful writing,each line says so much.

Ah,you make me think.

rOhit said...

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful writing.

Really!

(¯`•._.•[Raaji]•._.•´¯) said...

beautiful :-)

Riya Das said...

this is very beautifully expressed...
i love the opening lines

Jadis said...

Hmph!!! Eta kaar jonno lekha?? BTW, khub bhaalo hoyeche. Mes ze loves itszzzz!!!
heeeee!