tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24365262187832997422024-03-12T21:41:47.930-05:00THE EDDIESShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.comBlogger171125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-63248826528699624642011-01-01T23:45:00.003-06:002011-01-02T00:01:30.458-06:00Because change is the only thing constantEddies will now rant on talltrashtalks.blogspot.com.<br /><br />early first five followers will have a chance to win exquisite hampers<br /><br /><br /><br />Of course<br /><br /><br />conditions apply.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-56891318725135258932010-11-26T05:55:00.001-06:002010-11-26T05:58:29.658-06:00The gaze of the ruthless moon.<br />whirling in the womb of dark<br />A silence so prickly,<br />grazed the heart<br />Forests retire, mountains head home.<br />The night is mourning,<br />at the loss of unborn.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-54947541671295884912010-09-26T00:55:00.002-05:002010-09-26T01:12:03.193-05:00A song.Heart,<br />an underfed baboon-<br />chases for his tune<br />Like the naked sea,<br />awaits the moon.<br /><br />Heart,<br />a cradle of unsung songs,<br />remembering him-<br />till the unfinished dawn<br />Building castles-<br />in the cornfields of his hair<br />breeding butterflies-<br />right beneath them.<br /><br />Heart,<br />A traveler's curse,<br />Trudging oceans-<br />deeper than depth.<br />He says, "follow the wind, as i takes you"<br />I say, "how will the wind recognize you"<br /><br />Heart,<br />melts away with the rain,<br />flirting with memories-<br />ever so stray.<br />A peck, an unsolicited hug,<br />Hear the cloud day chuckle<br />after it has moaned.<br /><br />Heart,<br />becomes his fragrance,<br />when i'm alone.<br />Like blobs of paint,<br />left untouched on the canvas.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-21294109089983321712010-08-30T11:53:00.002-05:002010-08-30T12:05:12.697-05:00Between us, violet is madeOn the slope of his smile,<br />i build my home<br />Spreading like twilight <br />on a cloudy sky<br />Through the cornfields of his hair,<br />i charter my way<br />Purring like a river,<br />at the touch of the quay.<br /><br />On the slope of his smile,<br />i build my home<br />as day folds into<br />violet evenings.<br />Capturing an eternity<br />through unlocked fingers<br />Like unspoken words<br />that dance on wispersShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-88059391394821755872010-08-15T10:53:00.003-05:002010-08-15T12:29:38.827-05:00Happy independence storyLife moves in quirky designs. Only yesterday I was struck by Bob Marley's redemption song that talks about liberation in his typical typical da dee da sing-song. Ever seen its been looping in my head like a constipated pin-ball. And today I'm here, celebrating my liberation on the independence day eve in my pink shoebox-room.<br /><br />My initial thoughts don't seem to vary much from last year when i first moved in to the back-of-beyond ACJ hostel. This time the high multiplies and literally speaking,for my shoe-box rests atop on the 5th floor offering a wide world-view.<br /><br />This high in unmatched. This high remains unfazed. It's growing up part 2, this time only bolder. Read: squatting creepies in the middle of night amidst power-cut.<br /><br />Hope the fragrance of independence remains as strong as now. It poured big today. My pink walls rake of over-baked candy floss. Talking of food, day one has been interesting. My landlord's family hailing from a cow-fat village of Haryana offered me ghee-inflated bread which I haven't had in years. My resistance was met by some cow-fat Haryanvi words which made me succumb and gobble it all.<br /><br />So this was day 1. Updates soon to follow.<br /><br />For now,Won't you help to sing<br />This songs of freedom<br />'Cause all I ever have:<br />Redemption songs;<br />Redemption songs.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-18907210518110022662010-07-26T14:47:00.003-05:002010-07-27T04:10:36.681-05:00SheLoneliness-<br />Your pretty compact face<br />dancing on mannequin's wrist<br />leading the oceanic mist<br />Every time you smile,<br />i look away<br />silent and melancholy<br />silently-you walk pass by<br /><br />And your lips<br />like cold fire in blue sky<br />ash clouds filling sand castles<br />you whisper,<br />i scream<br />your home, my heart<br />in my heart-you walk pass by<br /><br />Loneliness<br />The wild child of unnamed fears<br />your drapes- purple and lilac<br />you shimmer,<br />i shy<br />you stay, i float<br />in my depth-you walk pass byShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-52084795233073703042010-07-12T13:43:00.002-05:002010-07-12T14:00:08.702-05:00rain as it comesLittle wolfs of the sky<br />how they rumble<br />and devour the sky<br />staging triumph<br />over the brittle brittle man<br />and his possesions <br />that flip and bite.<br /><br />And by the quay,<br />a dream falls oval-shaped<br />the petrichor, as the wisemen say<br />cracks a faint smile<br />like a dopamine shot, <br />induced way way up<br />to clean his sense of the world.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-23461286044474053612010-05-31T15:17:00.007-05:002010-06-06T16:21:14.240-05:00an uninspirational poemThe thing i seek<br />that eludes me in<br />poet's muse<br />Ranging from a flaming roof<br />to a lonely shoe<br /><br />The thing i seek,<br />a rickety clock<br />that shudders<br />till it explodes<br />and beholds time forever<br /><br /><br />The thing i seek,<br />devoured by venus-fly-trap<br />in the gamet of wisdom<br />meanings,<br />so elegantly lost<br /><br />The thing i seek<br />resemble rivulets<br />that once bathed in<br />nature's youth<br />but are now cursed of Alzheimer's<br /><br />The thing i seek<br />in the whispers<br />of my words<br />strays away<br />like leper's prideShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-69247008164208815482010-05-02T17:15:00.008-05:002010-05-18T11:21:09.698-05:00bed time storiesThe day glances at me through cracks in the window-implying another start, only of higher purpose this time. The ten-months have potential of a life-long hangover in the tribulations that are to succeed. Bags fall short of experiences and heart falls short of emotions. Transit has always been like this, hasn't it? Through the haze of uncertainty, one yearns for sunshine. Compulsively looking at the wrist watch while waiting for the bus to arrive. <br /><br />Demolishing our little home, we proceed to another home. Some look back, some choose to walk straight. I look at my bed-the inscrutable testimony to the things i indulged in. A mob of DVDs jostling against the hard-bounds, offering lessons on anarchy; letters spread like squatter on the filthiest corner of the bed, together influencing my character certificate felicitated at the time of departure.<br /><br />Out of many other things, I chose to write about my bed for it will be missed more than anything else- the length and breadth of my freedom, the literal metaphor of my space. The poetic dreams that it canvassed along with a few complimentary tears. My bed was truly my home and my pillow a guardian, backing me on cloudy days that represented the Chennai sky<br /><br />I remember my initial initial nights when I felt like an infant forcefully pushed into an 7 ft adult swimming pool.I was exasperating for air in the tense, competent environment of classrooms and sooner I swam through all of it, with a few modest A's in my kitty. But today, i see the waters swirling and sinking fastidiously in the drain. Hitting the abyss, hurts mildly. A comfortable pain that would evade by the time it's reflected upon.<br /><br />Goodbye,<br /><br />beachtibbsiitrunsprofsgrouchyroomiesroomgolulibrarycuckoorainsShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-68363926156682339852010-04-25T04:40:00.005-05:002010-04-30T07:47:16.603-05:00Stream of noonThe nude face of the sky<br />is thirsty of joy<br />soaked in yellow<br />discerning a disease <br />-of mind or body!?<br />cringing like an infant<br />in torpid lap of afternoon<br />the infant who fondles<br />her mother's breast<br />in loose aspirations<br />for it to milkShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-57893323523827428582010-04-22T07:43:00.005-05:002010-04-23T10:24:00.466-05:00tehelka expose, volume IThe placement ghost has followed me to the end of the sea, where there is no escape. No faith, no friend, no father. Each time it stormed I sought shelter in my own arms; like the violinists that stuck to their tunes even when Titanic was neck deep in misery. But things don't seem as bright hereafter. <br /><br />The repeated bouts of failure have a deeper meaning and purpose than mere foreplay of fate. How else can i explain my blanking out in the interview that was held most righteously. The lady admired my writing but didn't find me convincing enough. unlike others I read that magazine several times a month and subscribe to their ideas but why couldn't I express it? Because I wasn't sure if I am bold enough at this age to write for a magazine known for its razor-sharpness on matters of arts and politics.<br /><br />The verdict is out. I need to come out of the nebula that breeds in my head. The daunting rounds of self-questioning on my writing style and area of interest. Most importantly lack of schooling. Perhaps one year was too short to justify my derailment from the career-building path. Ogilvy sacrifice is meant for bigger things of academic nature. <br /><br />Tehelka exposed my follies this time. Long live tehelkaShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-72477014484327586092010-04-14T11:59:00.002-05:002010-04-14T12:16:33.303-05:00into the sea of no shoreHey musician walking by the quay,<br />turn around and listen to the waves<br />The dash of silence<br />and hush of birds<br />the blues of the wind<br />and whites of the tide<br />OBLIVIOUS<br />To the world this side<br />huddled in mud<br />to the blood that's<br />saltier than water<br />and storm thats devours<br />the hungry men.<br /><br />Walk on to the sonnets<br />that have a face<br />walk on even when the <br />faces fade.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-24694780862775712942010-04-11T17:34:00.004-05:002010-04-12T10:37:00.412-05:00Placed under a showerIf Siddhartha was born today, he would have been likely to attain moksha in a bathroom. Repulsive to you, isn't it? but how else can I possibly explain my divine interventions at a 3.am at the mouth of a faucet. The purpose of the shower was too unwind myself of the placement doldrums(a sublime rheoteric here). To throw up all the reading I had done over the weekend, compensating for the lack of it in the entire year.<br /><br />Newspapers make great mats for undoing fruits, sounds proverbial doesn't it? If it hadn't been for the compelling Suduko squares, I would have saved myself a penny or two from the Hindu subscription.<br /><br />As things turned out, I connived myself to believe that I too can participate in the hobbies of the hairy, double rim spectacled, armpit-stinking nerds. Not in any manner to contest with them, but to taste all the obscurities of J world. Through the hazy bubbles of shampoo, the consequences of this proposition appeared infinitely unworthy. I cannot excuse my temptation for experimentation. Just like sleeping on the tracks to feel the commotion of the engine. Daft enough.<br /><br />The schematic train of thoughts then led me to the road less traveled.I don't need to go through a god-damn academic exercise to test my merit. What i need is time to enrich the institution of the self; that has practically taught me everything academic and non-academic. <br /><br />I have nothing to lose. Time, money, age, nothing whatsoever. I need two years of the kind of ambiance i'm currently absorbed in. Nothing less, nothing more. i need more books on my shelf and double the Dvd's. A guitar would be luxury :) A back-pack just too godly.<br /><br />So here I have my official laugh at you desperate job-seekers, go fight your battles while i just ended mine .Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-9365472680359129532010-03-29T18:07:00.001-05:002010-03-29T18:07:48.071-05:00/m\ BengaluruMy mama always says that I can never do things the right way. The reason she promulgates is my breach-incoming to the world. Nothing more complicated than the fact that i was pulled from toe to head from the fetus against the norms of head-first-push deliveries. Why i say is because I land at the liquor belly of the country on a dry weekend. Unknowingly of course. But the idea of Bangalore on a dry weekend is plain shockingly absurd. How do I possibly describe my reaction to the "close till sunday due to election" board? Frown-face with twisted eye-brow? The I-will-smash your balls so what if 17 and a half-year old who is denied entry to an Adult film look. <br /><br />At that point, It only helped to think that I am not a dipsomaniac. But my motive-supremo was to expose my auditory faculty to some hard-rock and comfortable-metal(if it does exist)as pubs it Bangalore are held as the mecca of music-lovers.<br />I then pursued the mood-enhancing thought of the auto-rickshaws that play Metallica. Courtesy- a friend's first-hand experience of the rocking auto-ride. Needless to say, I didn't find one. But what i found was a megalomaniac display of books. From roof to ceiling, in multiples of hundred hurled in one stack. The Mahakumbh of papyrus, in L, XL and XXL denominations. <br /><br />Arthur Miller's plays at Rs. 50 can shock anyone's wit right? The charcoal-folds of epistolatory gave me a cerebral seizure. Wondrously, there was no place to collapse or even squat to scurry the desired tome for that matter. The literary fest sprawls across the three floors; compartmentalized into: Philosophy and fiction on the ground floor. Literary fiction on the first and science fiction on the second. The depraved looking store-employees bowl you out with the speedy quest of the title you desire. The modestly dull staff carries Foucault on their sleeves. Yes they spell it accurately too.<br /><br />Four-hours well short for the book-mall, along with the booty. i pensively picked up my annual reading list of twelve while rejecting a stack of meaty ten. Blossoms- my singular honey-moon destination, if i marry a millionaire.<br /><br />Bangalore other than booze and blossoms is unabashedly cool. Be it the local weather or the local intellect. Whiz passig the crowd of drab techies, one effortlessly spots uncouthly men in curly beards like the interface of Greek god of music. Suave and uncanny, they become piping eye-candies. The girls are loud like any other Maybelline-applying chicks.<br /> <br />The libertine use of material reflects in all architectural archetypes. Malls, office complex, residency or even shady restaurants. The spirit of mankind is rendered aesthetically in tall structures that stand for modernity. The Randian panorama of architecture can be scaled in the cloudy fields of Bengaluru sky.<br /><br />Like any other metro, the speed of life is expressed in mbps. Work-hard but party-harder syndrome seems to infect everyone. Rat-race should be declared the official sport of the state. Technology becomes religion and heterogeneity defines culture.<br /><br />If booze and blossom compete for the potential b of Bengaluu, Brigade road braces victory. The c.p of Bangalore, brigade road is one-stop destination for shoppers, party-goers, readers and gluttons and even angora-lovers. The road dons a shop that rears nine angora-cats only for recreational purpose.<br /><br />As days passed, I saw my trip turning into a pilgrimage. I couldn't have asked for more. The independent train and bus-rides were beyond good. The 3 am premier of DDLJ in hindi (played in the volvo) was way too beguiling in a predominantly Tamil and Kannad speaking passenger majority.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-12128195732341920612010-03-21T11:00:00.007-05:002010-03-21T13:58:25.024-05:00you can run and you can hide :-)Things can't get any better when you make yourself run 4 km's to fetch the drool-dribbling, eye-popping, moaning-groaning-adrenaline humping chocolate fantasy at subsidized rate only to opt for an unflattering cold-coffee priced at a modest 35. 'Joy sans pleasure'(borrowed from Robert Jensen's speech), i reckon.<br /><br />The unwinding roads at IIT Chennai offer a perfect picturesque for fitness enthusiasts and the unfitting exercise procrastinators. Talking about the lush landscape would be stating the obvious but oh deer! what fun in spotting them like former class-mates in a foreign city.<br /><br />At Twilight, the moonlight pierces through the willows; casting abstract shadows on road that seem to compete with the beauty of the willow itself. The pace of your steps against the throbbing music redefines melody altogether. After a point reality hops into oblivion, leaving you comfortably alone with your thoughts.<br /> <br />If walking clears your head, running, vacuum cleans it. The world looks fresh, even though its bathed in sweat. 'Running without getting anywhere'experience feels as spiritual as it sounds. What does one run behind? Ordinarily-a bus, ambitiously- money and notoriously- woman. But running purposelessly overtakes all of them, even logic and rationality for that matter.<br /><br />In a span of two days I have begun to think highly of athletes, installing my faith in the 'brain with brawn' species(Hello, are you listening?. And ofcourse you can run and you can hide the adipose. The strategically located cafe coffee day(4-km away from the IIT gate)suitably awards your chiseled tummy.<br /><br />Why bother with further explanations. if forrest can run, so can IShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-9625066126016227742010-03-21T05:26:00.002-05:002010-03-21T05:35:05.399-05:00When aghoree turned into emo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-ynIFRyZlPShqpkCx1XWZQCdKozY8u318vdmzum7KZah6kgStiZqBTxCD_HQydW0CSChzYwVTlllJeJGJMBenpRZUd5Vyn4tzu5z74DcODw2dgNcG2BSS07f65t8BjtuXaGsPr-SbKUm/s1600-h/Emo_graphics_hi5_27.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-ynIFRyZlPShqpkCx1XWZQCdKozY8u318vdmzum7KZah6kgStiZqBTxCD_HQydW0CSChzYwVTlllJeJGJMBenpRZUd5Vyn4tzu5z74DcODw2dgNcG2BSS07f65t8BjtuXaGsPr-SbKUm/s200/Emo_graphics_hi5_27.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451033688242033586" /></a>Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-87598633943187783982010-03-12T00:46:00.000-06:002010-03-12T00:47:59.415-06:00Orion and ArtemisYou came to my life draped in white, carrying sunshine in your palms. <br />I, the infantine hope <br />of a withering blossom,<br />Melted In your folds, <br />in exact widths and proportions<br />Fitting into the ethereal poetry, that was ever etched<br />On the nape of the earth.<br />Love? Was it?<br />Annihilating all the existing paradigms and notions,<br />As you scribbled freedom on my wrist.<br />And danced all the alphabets in exultation<br />-celebrating the communion of our musk<br />Love in freedom and freedom in love<br />Days slipped by like pollen from rose<br />You and me heading to We<br />I clinged to us, <br />blinded by the fire in your eyes<br />A fire that devoured me, like a hungry giant<br />Through a royal invitation to the house of pyre<br />Burnt? Bruised? Any injuries?<br />So how do I spell mortuary?<br />Drawing castles out of gelid ash on a foggy night.<br />A night that limps like an ageing dog<br />Waiting passionately for sunlight no more.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-76066844515657966712010-03-11T12:09:00.002-06:002010-03-11T12:22:06.375-06:00inside me is pain;<br />Flowering like lichen,<br />over a dead body<br />bereft of a face,<br />stolen of a name<br />rooted deeply in the gravels<br />of an edgeless shore<br />Seeking showers;<br />of an untimely rain<br />inflicted by derision<br />in the charcoals of time<br />turning memories into sonnets<br />that refuse to be recitedShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-43752675934918379372010-02-28T15:34:00.007-06:002010-03-06T07:23:46.574-06:00DistancesHow can one run out of<br />the sun, moon, and the rain?<br />The poet assures himself, <br />sitting by the quay<br />drenched in mud and paper<br />beginning to trash his voice <br />(in split-syllables of cry).<br />Just then he sights<br />a stripling playing flute<br />to the passing flamingos<br />in broken silences <br />of the vehement tide.<br /><br />He pounces on the artist<br />staging a relentless ballet of fingers<br />in staid, stainless afternoon <br />over his clumsy shadow.<br />"What inspires you to play<br />against the writhe of Boiling May?<br />Her memories! Where are they?<br />Stranded on the roads that have drifted<br />her away?"<br /><br />And explains the thirsty urchin<br />in half-notes of composite smiles –<br />about her memories resident<br />in the bounties of his fist, <br />of bridges built to jump<br />from one finger to another,<br />of a fragrance hidden behind<br />the minarets of his collar –<br />Occurring and recurring<br />like melody in a tome,<br />bringing him her chuckles<br />through carriages of love.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-9848525192736106032010-02-22T12:02:00.005-06:002010-03-06T07:22:26.016-06:00A portrait.I draw you in the moss-devoured<br />face of the lake.<br />Can you see my fingers<br />reaching out for your eye-lashes?<br />In the neon clouds of slate<br />Twitch- your eye-lids<br />falling like stars on my palms;<br />Drowning all the sky<br />that water once contained.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-58136989035199576682010-02-20T06:57:00.004-06:002010-02-22T12:34:37.001-06:00EveningBrightly lit like a bride<br />walking tip-toe<br />over waning shadows<br />Silently in her drape<br />that falls over the sky.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-64086625982561545102010-02-20T05:48:00.004-06:002010-02-20T06:38:34.437-06:00A VerseWords grow like cotton-balls,<br />In the Springfield of your hair<br />words, with no hands and feet<br />Crawling on my back<br />like rivers on the map<br />Drawing you in my pale memory<br />as i recall the last moon i saw.<br /><br />Words, scatter as i bring them on<br />like dust of the forest fire<br />words that sweetly glance<br />the way infants look at,<br />every passing balloon<br />Leading me to the roads you take,<br />as i greet my journey tonight.Shewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-46706748776305019132010-02-11T03:23:00.002-06:002010-02-11T03:41:35.063-06:00what's up?shadows fall upon road,<br />sherlock picks up the phone<br />vessels scathe, <br />slayed is the house<br />spouse, your maverick spouse!<br />bus-wheels screech<br />clock-towers preach<br />one o one at night to five<br />and hounds..<br />circle city parks<br />like cops on chloroform<br />in the societal trash<br />of plastic toys and plastic cash<br />streets weep, sweepers merry<br />wild goose, wilder berry<br />forests hide in clouds of smoke<br />smoke, smoke-0-choke<br />and buildings..<br />with long nose<br />like a queen riding<br />on haughty toes<br />wearing botox in her slim wrist<br />caging dreams in her fist<br />dreams cooked in,<br />fast-food oil<br />brought to you by<br />the delivery boyShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-16072750864300710512010-02-11T03:12:00.003-06:002010-02-11T03:23:12.379-06:00incantationin the hour-glass of life,<br />time slips by,<br />like river from the edge of the hill<br />like hill from the edge of the sky<br />with shiny silvery eye<br /><br />Noiseless like hymns and echoes of a broken bridge,<br />noiseless, just you and me<br />in the chest of a giddy night<br />in the night of a giddy tide<br />purple our incantation beShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2436526218783299742.post-38983309811765950012010-02-06T15:29:00.005-06:002010-02-11T03:12:29.329-06:00the soft thoughts of you,<br />in the sun-burnt mind of me<br />wind, breeze, zephyr,<br />wind, breeze, zephyr<br />sometimes a fragrance,<br />in the blue fields of sky<br />moist and mercurial<br />moist and mercurial<br />like the talking rubies<br />in the cradle of your nape<br />words and pearls<br />words and pearls<br />exuded from the chestnut<br />of your cherry-bright heartShewolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13356077553148214956noreply@blogger.com1