Tuesday, 28 August, 2007
Comment tu t'appelle?
......She tossed aside her shroud of clouds,
Parted the winds and waited...
As the first flickers of light touched the pyre
She claimed what was her own,
andConsumed the flames ire
Some thing touched his brow,
something soft and sweet
something which gave him a slight shove....
He sailed accross the murky troubled water
sand landed on his arse into a rich and prosperous happy future....
with happy memories of the girl he tried to cremate....
ready to start afresh....
Sounds a trifle mad doesn't it? there is a bit of eliot in it the influence of Preludes stanza III.
Colour me green
Fresh green leaves on old majestic trees are like a sudden splash of joy. An Old green gate rolling open into a vast stretch of green grass is my earliest memory. The field dotted with innumerable little people dressed in royal blue and white gave me a sudden burst of excitement.
The grounds were moody rather muddy during rains,light green and yellow with spots of earth in summer...It turned a brilliant hue after the rains and little people marched on the chalk dust lines during winters...the trampled grass came back to life in spring.