At the river bank the tree seemed
Totally unconnected with the spires
On the other shore and the stones
That sat in lonely company with
The human figure in red in them.
Where actually the connection existed
Was unclear after the camera click.
But now as I looked at the reality’s copy
It all seemed to say the same thing
Being grossed up by the sky above.
Somehow in all this, my eye’s camera
Seemed to have a say and my brain.
Actually my body sang the main song;
The tree and the stones and the water
And the spires fell in with the song.
The hooded figure sitting in the stones
Could be, me or the spires or the tree.

nisheedhi   nisheedhi wrote
on 12/3/2008 10:34:16 AM
Thank you jamisvu for liking the poem even if you have no idea of what it is all about. That shows you are a nice guy -(I too am one ):thanks

nisheedhi   nisheedhi wrote
on 12/2/2008 5:47:16 PM
Thanks,penname for the deep comments on my poems ; actually I write without much thought for construction and hence the occasional awkwardness.I am of course in no mood for trying to achieve perfection and hardly spend time on honing the techniques etc. I find your poems difficult sometimes and may be, some awkwardness too ,a few wrong uses etc..But all these hardly matter ;it is the underlying voice that counts.You have a powerful voice and I am glad you have come my way.Thank you so much for your attention

penname   penname wrote
on 12/2/2008 5:29:08 PM
amazing- amazing combination of thoughts, symbolism, metaphors... i love the use of "spires"- and the imagery is awesome. your line enjambment is odd but as i read through it works so well with connecting each line....this short superb poem took me to a place i didnt initially think it would at the beginning. ahhh, can't judge a poem by its first lines...or perhaps i could...those lines were delightful and the rest of the poem built upon it. i love the questioned open end. this was light but deep too.

Free Verse
writing nisheedhi
Poetry based upon actual experiences, not one thought up in the intellectual aridness of a pseudo-thinker. Words as they mean in the specific context of recollected thought or image , not meaning several things at a time but that which re-creates an aura or a haze of an earlier experience.
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