Ode To A House That Harboured Beginnings And Ends

Ode To A House That Harboured Beginnings And Ends ode

Beloved houses die in essence,
Beloved people in mass.
These treasures seem to balance.
Upon infinitesimal hours.

For houses die subtle silent deaths,
Like furtive fading seasons.
Like shadows of dimming lengths,
As the fugitive sun hastens.

They die – a slow feline stealth,
Like disturbed dreams that splinter.
Into blank walls that death has felt,
With his forked tongue of winter.

Silence has frescoed shadows,
Whose footsteps echo on the floors?
And unfed restless sparrows,
Twitter past the bolted doors.

And of no avail naive dreams,
Remnants of some transient games.
Of lives spilt in myriad streams,
That left behind faceless names.

There is a happy rain coming,
To heal all houses with broken hearts.
There is a song someone is strumming,
To heal all endings and starts.

This poem is part of the Poetry Book “Twenty Poems of Light and Longing: Rabbit HOLE calling

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Jay Krishnan

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Always wide eyed with wonder, prone to reveries and restless with an inexplicable yearning to create ever since he was a little boy, Jay wrote his first poem when he was six. He discovered the ore of his creative endeavors in the writings of his sister from which everything else originated, in attics filled with vanilla smelling old books, in savoring the classics and in intricate poems of Wordsworth and William Blake inlaid with rhyme…. His poems have snuck under editorial radars and appeared in global anthologies, magazines, newspapers and online journals. He also runs an idea shop called the Centre of Gravity, draws cartoons, directs animated short films and conceptualizes communication campaigns. All of which originate from the same artery of poetic longing that destiny charmed into his soul.
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