Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Poetry 2015, FeaturedWriter Yesha Shah

Weaving Dreams (Pantoum)

I sit in a corner weaving dreams
picking up the stitch where I’d left unfinished,
the criss-cross knots give a soothing texture
little ups and downs in the fabric of life.
Picking up the stitch where I’d left unfinished
I never did let go of the hope to complete;
the little ups and downs in the fabric of life,
moulding grainy patches into a wholesome part.
I never did let go of the hope to complete.
Even as I was making a clay statuette
moulding the grainy patches into a wholesome part,
just then there was a heavy downpour.
Even then I was making clay statuette
it was meant to be me, carving my destiny,
just then there was a heavy downpour;
and it all flowed down to a muddy puddle.
It was meant to be me, carving my destiny.
I chastise myself for not shielding wispy wishes
and it all flowed down to a muddy puddle,
colours of life bleed through amber eyes.
I chastise myself for not shielding wispy wishes
A gust of wind floated them away
colours of life bleed through amber eyes
Rainbow streaks of a wistful dream.
A gust of wind floated them away,
I begin again to brighten my hues, vivid,
 rainbow streaks of a wistful dream,
essence of its presence lingers long after its gone.
I begin again to brighten my hues, vivid,
the criss-cross knots give a soothing texture
essence of its presence lingers long after its gone
I sit in a corner weaving dreams!

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