Singularities – Part 2

Near is very far
space, time,
continuum,

still

there’s a vastness that appals
chemotherapy,
white walls

scurrying through
the corridors
of the christie this monday morning
early
meeting Emile, yes, named after Jean Jacques’ eponymous hero,

married at the weekend, it has spread,
he fears he’ll soon be dead

his caribbean lilt
still
echoes in my head.

we smile and laugh and joke with the nurses
as they try searching for a vein
in vain.

what else can you do
blue’s still
the colour of blue?

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

A Guardian In Your Eyes, A Thug In Their Eyes

A Guardian In Your Eyes, A Thug In Their Eyes long poem

My innocent little sister In your eyes You see me as a guardian Shining bright with a halo over my head Wings as pure as jade A mountain that doesn’t move Even when the earth shakes When the thunder strikes

#metoo

#metoo prose poem

I was scrolling through a few of the #MeToo posts on my timeline, when, I thought I’d bring a few questions clawing my mind, to the society’s attention – How could you throw the unassuming girl child to the ants,

Is This How You Love?

Is This How You Love? short poem

You have no problem leaving me behind. You can easily put me out of your mind. It’s like my presence puts you in a bind. I bet every time you see me you wish you were blind. You told me

The Prince, The King And The Master

The Prince, The King And The Master long poem

The shrine of Madonna stood tall, The high king’s rapier fell down, not anymore was he the young prince, for he was devoid of all feelings. The shrine of Madonna stood strong, The high king’s blood washed the ivory pedestal,

Who Was Me?

Who Was Me? short poem

A misbelief breaks into rags. Still I dream of some gods on black pages piecing together the words of light. The rains come in the cage of tears, voicelessly. Striated muscles of splintered faith go to cramps birthing the avatar