Isle of Dead Souls

Isle of Dead Souls short poem

sketch by Ratnesh Madaan

Eyes as hard as the hardest stone.

Inscrutable, hide within secrets galore.

The face, the same.

But them hands, they lie.

On a bed of lies her mind still rests,

Waiting for a kick.

Dystopia all around her.

Or so, she thinks.

Eyes as hard as the hardest stone.

Scrutable they are,

If met with a similar pair.

But she lives on an isle of dead souls.

P.S. Please read description of the poem and the sketch in the comments of the Editorial Board on this poem, to appreciate the writer’s intent fully.

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Ratnesh Madaan

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Jack of a few trades. Engineer in making. Serial hobbyist. Starting reading a few months ago.
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3 Comments on "Isle of Dead Souls"

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Editorial Board

For the benefit of the reader we are adding comments here provided by the poet which will help in understanding and appreciating fully the intent and meaning of the poet: “Note 1: Accompanying this poem is a sketch I made with soft pastels and pencil colors. It adds another dimension to the poem. ” “Note 2( To be read only after interpreting the poem and the sketch) “A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him” – Ezra Pound Yes, you got it right. (As if there was anything to figure out !) She is mentally ill. A combination of schizophrenia, depression and generally, she is an outsider in the society (on the lines of the character, Meursault in The Outsider). She never depicts her true self, which has slowly destroyed her mind. Her masquerade has been kept for so long that she can’t change herself, now. But sometimes, she can be figured out (“hands” lie) , or maybe if she meets someone like her, who can set her free.’

Reyvrex Questor Reyes

This has deeper philosophy than meets the eye.


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