Word-stripped
Today,
I have nothing to say.
The words have all melted
with the dew on the clothesline.
When I brought the washing in,
the syllables, consipiring, had all consented,
to mutiny - their sullen nudity, a sign
that my robe of verbiage was slipping.
Modesty, ever-dictating, ever-there,
I knew not how to out-sulk, out-stare
those naked syllables, stripped bare
of meaning, reason, promise of glory.
I prod, I plead; I abuse, I swear -
but today, they won't move, they tell no story.
And so, today,
I have nothing to say.
(C) Annie Zaidi, December 2004.
[New sawaal; jawaab awaited... Over to you.]
I have nothing to say.
The words have all melted
with the dew on the clothesline.
When I brought the washing in,
the syllables, consipiring, had all consented,
to mutiny - their sullen nudity, a sign
that my robe of verbiage was slipping.
Modesty, ever-dictating, ever-there,
I knew not how to out-sulk, out-stare
those naked syllables, stripped bare
of meaning, reason, promise of glory.
I prod, I plead; I abuse, I swear -
but today, they won't move, they tell no story.
And so, today,
I have nothing to say.
(C) Annie Zaidi, December 2004.
[New sawaal; jawaab awaited... Over to you.]
© | 1:43 pm
2 Comments:
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if that's what it's like
when you're lost for words, my dear,
may i be blocked too!
and, my muse must be laughing its arse off, because i'm still ploughing through those paid-for words, struggling to break free and let the words take over, or at least to get it over with and come back here and do a jawaab worthy of the sawaal.
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