Tuesday, 8 July 2014


My long tentacles of attachment

Do not let me go to the place

Where Words made of light

Vibrate giving clarion call

To follow them wholeheartedly


I shudder to let go of my desire

To make a feast with my senses

Of the world with all its

Color, music and form

That is both hard and soft

I cannot dream of my taste buds

Becoming snails on a dry and rough path


Yet those shining, smiling Words

Beckon to their dwelling place

Which is so high from this ground

And I know that craggy uphill path

Is not for me at all

Still they keep on sending signals

And whisper in my dream

To shed of some parts of me

Only to be with them which I cannot


Posted for Peggy’s prompt An Impossible Place @ Poetry Jam