A love learned

When I saw you first,
I felt like Keats
who felt like Cortez*

I tossed and turned
n the clutches of this wild surmise
I ran amok
in the forest of this dream

Your hands were poetry
carved word by word
out of the pregnant air

Your eyes,
darker than a shakespearian night
everything told

I tried to learn you
by heart,
like a language – a sonnet,

in                      parts

I memorised
the rawness of
your hoarse morning voice,
the perversity
of your mindless chatter,
the scansion
of your childlike

I discovered you
like a blindman
discovers an unfamiliar voice,

syllable by slowly
etched syllable

I learnt that love is a forest,

not the Nazi killing Basterd forest
of long oaks,
of ruthless eyes
peopled by the absurd romance
of enigma and vengeance,

not titania’s magical forest
where reality was a wisp
of smoke
that lingered too long
over sleepless eyes,

but the forest
with a falling
tree that nobody sees

I learnt that love can be learnt,
that the spontaneity of an embrace
was taught in the arduous way
that rocks are formed,

that epiphany unfurled
as we chewed the cud
of conversations and silences.

I learned to preserve our time in a
glass bottle that our sorrows wouldn’t stain

I hid it in the undergrowth,

for somebody to see
if they came looking
for the fallen tree,

so that it remained there

a warped ethnography
of an evening in paradise




About teevramadhyam

'I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity' -Poe
This entry was posted in beauty, Could be verse, epiphany, Lou, nasha, nature, poetry, the beauty myth and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s