Thinking of a Canvas

Thinking of a Canvas

A Poem by Abhra

Call me reminiscent tonight.
Call me butter and bread.
Call me erupt, meadow.
Call me anything tonight.

In this discordant night.
I can become anything you want.
A book of unfinished passages. 
A rain drenched road.


Call me a harp, a string
or lament tonight.
Call me a word. Any word. But do not find a meaning
to my name. 


Call me short of daybreak. A measure of the wayfared
miles in love (you do not know). Call me a country of half lives.
Call me a wave, a brook.
Call me nothing and everything.



Call me a glimpse and past
Call me things forgotten..
Call me in silence if you must
But don't call me love.

© 2011 Abhra


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J
whoa. the possibilities promise such compromise and nearly assured convergence, beautifully depicted in nearly cavalier display, ready and mostly even eager to oblige ... until the brutal reality of the last line. it seems a synopsis of a hundred years of lessons ~ each one etched indelibly forever upon tomorrow.

wrenching colours otherworldy upon a canvas begging acknowledgement.

dang but how you write, abhra.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Wow! I came to this because the title drew me and look what I found! The power of a title working with a beautiful write like this. I couldn't stop reading, feeding on it really.
"Call me a word. Any word. But do not find a meaning
to my name."

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wow what a beuatiful write,
This is really awesome, so pretty.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

What a lovely poem! I really love the imagery, especially the ending. I think the ending has a deep meaning "But don't call me love."
"Call me a glimpse and past
Call me things forgotten..
Call me in silence if you must
But don't call me love."


Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Absolutely beautiful, the words flow together so flawlessly. Well done.

Posted 12 Years Ago


[send message][befriend] Subscribe
J
whoa. the possibilities promise such compromise and nearly assured convergence, beautifully depicted in nearly cavalier display, ready and mostly even eager to oblige ... until the brutal reality of the last line. it seems a synopsis of a hundred years of lessons ~ each one etched indelibly forever upon tomorrow.

wrenching colours otherworldy upon a canvas begging acknowledgement.

dang but how you write, abhra.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This has had a real impact on me. I love the imagery, and the repetition isn't overbearing, just right. It kind of reminds me of Jim Morrison's poetry, which I think you should definitely check out. I like the infinite feeling of being nameless, that this poem gives me. You are nothing and everything at once. Lovely.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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6 Reviews
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Shelved in 1 Library
Added on October 6, 2011
Last Updated on October 6, 2011

Author

Abhra
Abhra

Kennesaw, GA



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A Poem by Abhra



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