My lotus-bud
hands embrace
nights that balloon
like the tight
translucent skins
of mosquito bellies
distended with
my blood.
They can be clapped
out of existence.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
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trumpets
big flapping ears
trunks breathe
hoard those tusks
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13 comments:
Haa.haaa...
no wonder some nights are spent clapping away.
So are you vying for the title of the new TeesMarkhan.... hain??
lol
cheers
z
Gotta love those last two lines. Some applause at the death of the mozzie. {I've sometimes commented on mankind's genocidal tendencies when it comes to insects...}
I agree, deemikay; those last 2 lines rock. And I am considering the mosquito as a metaphor...for...what? Annoyance? The Plague? The Undesired? What can we conceivable clap out of our existence? River, enquiring minds want to know!
Perhaps, Z, perhaps.
David,
Thanks. However, I'm not a murderer at all! I only kill mosquitoes...In India you have to!
enemy of the republic,
Clever, clever!
What does "They" in the penultimate line stand for? That's the question you have to answer. :)
Well, I know they stand for more than the mosquitos. So I am thinking about mosquitos. I'm still thinking...
mosquito bellies
What intangible objects of sin. :)
Think, think, think, enemy. Whatever you think is right.
Neha Vish,
Yes, they are, aren't they? I find them visually attractive. The thin fragile lines, the throbbing red beneath the blooming grey.
Welcome and come back. :)
That's a nice profile pic. You?
Ahhh... but:
Kill a mossie you kill a beetle.
Kill a beetle you kill a mouse.
Kill a mouse you kill a cat.
Kill a cat you kill a horse.
Kill a horse you kill a whale.
Kill a whale, they're all dead of course.
Killing one thing kills them all.
Very big's the same as very small.
Or something like that... ;o)
In Scotland you have to kill Slaters (wood lice). So I understand. :o)
Okay, I am onto something: My lotus-bud hands embrace nights
nights=mosquito bellies distended with my blood.
So the night can be rich with the promise of life or it can be a portent of disease and weakness.
How's that for a start?
Hee hee, deemikay. George Orwell said this about killing an elephant in Burma:
I had never shot an elephant and never wanted to. (Somehow it always seems worse to kill a large animal).
So, I would never, never kill a whale. No Moby Dicking for me. No, sirree! (A chicken's different, of course, isn't it?)
enemy,
That's wonderful detective work! Great interpretation and it's very close to my original intention. A poem about nights, not mosquitoes. :)
fractiled skeeter bellies would be an intersting shot.
Yes, that was me at the age of 2 months. I hear it's all downhill after that. :)
Morgan,
That's an idea (again!). I'll try some.
Awwwww...Neha Vish, such a cute bundle of woollies you were! And such eyes, such eyes. All of 2 months too! ~:D
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