Snow, Word or a Penance

2014 ©Fatheek Aboobucker

Poems of a very solitary
adhere like a leech on the Crease of my inner wall
painted with blurred darkness in red

Entrusting me for writing
snow has started falling with its thousand poems,
the night lays their eggs of secret words therein

ME Scattered as;
A cup frozen with tea stains,
books read few pages or half,
an innocent ballad with the feather that crow dropped,
and
a heap of dirty clothes,
filled with the words of snow.

The me

In rapture,
I play the beloved loudly
as
perversion of writing down
then the latter repentance
smeared the fragrance of the gloom all over my body

writing is the pleasure of relieving, 

music too

I must sit yajna for pleading the boon of non-writing

are your grays deeded for sitting on my lap with a shortened hair?

Have your bareness and bosoms distract penance
vanished from you yet
yasodhara?






* Yasodharā was a wife of Siddhārtha Gautama, later known as Gautama Buddha