The carcass of chrysanthemums lay there still
Long after the crowd dispersed
Whispers stopped
And footsteps ceased
Memories of lost vibrancy
Sunkissed hues that had seemed colourful
Lay there still
Withdrawn from the theatre
As the lights dimmed
One by one
Not dead enough to be discarded
Nor living enough to be considered
The carcass of chrysanthemums
Lay there still
Little aware of anything
Though profoundly knowing it all
A few yards away
Plastic lights shone
And a neon sun and moon
Bereft of warmth
Masqueraded as light
Mimicking genesis
Observing is important, we speak or not.
ReplyDeleteLike the relationships that are there, efforts are missing, there are there, living or dead.
ReplyDeleteLike the introduction of the film, where they mentions about characters living or dead... It is there... Probably noticing it all.... Though speaks but is fluent in silence.
*mention
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading! :)
DeleteThis is absolutely beautiful. Happy World Theatre Day ma'am :) You never miss the details. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you, my dear, for reading through! :)
DeleteI love how there's no period at the end. it's a process. ongoing. it's dying but not dead.
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
DeleteEvocative of myriad creations, this new one is luminous, though dwelling on waning flicker.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for reading! Treasure your observations :)
DeleteI have been looking at the carcass of the chrysanthemums since the last week, planted in the pots in my balcony. They lay still, the vain cachepot looked on. And then, I find myself reading the ragpickers's diary. What a cherishable coincidence, and a reader's delight! Thank you, for addressing the elusive, in the garb of palpable.
ReplyDeleteThis is precious! Thank you so much for reading! :)
Delete"Not dead enough to be discarded
ReplyDeleteNor living enough to be considered"
These lines are like an echo that reverberates in our souls.
Also, the way in which this poem depicts that dying is a process and how not taking a stand is very much equal to dying is commendable. It has got very intrinsic details. And the exemption of punctuations in the entire poem and every line beginning with a capital letter is a metaphor of growing and wilting chrysanthemums. Just like how one flower wilts and the other grows and this keeps happening. This poem is as thoughtful and fresh as chrysanthemums.
Thank you for reading the blog and leaving such a beautiful observation :)
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