Lit eZine Vol 4 | p-5 | POETRY | My Poetic Soul

SHORT POEMS

MY POETIC SOUL
by Mahvash Mohtadullah

THE BOUGAINVILLEA

O Beauteous one 
This is for you 
For all the times that you have bloomed 
When all around have burrowed deep
Into the coolness of earth’s breast 
Hiding away, biding their time 
Until gentler, lighter climes 
Bestir them in their loamy beds
But you, O Intrepid one 
You have always overcome
You have worn your gem-like garb
In ways that made me catch my breath 
Racing, chasing to my heart
Wondering if you’d shimmer on
Or if your time here too was done 
But you wore your jeweled crown 
Glittering in the scorching sun 
I looked at you, O Enchanting one 
As you cavorted with the breeze
Those molten gusts upon my skin 
I gulped in then, the oxygen 
That sat timorously in the air
But I was pulled 
By the oasis that surrounded you 
Perfect, paradisiacal 
Unsundered by the elements 
There you danced so full of joy
I came to you pulled by the spell 
Of your vividness, O Alluring one 
You swayed your head 
Spangled whorls overspread 
Across the fretwork of your boughs 
Mesmerized I reached out 
Into your magic latticed web 
You pricked me then, O Bewitching one 
Your thorns were invisible, hidden 
I knew then that your glittering grace
Your wild gumption to face the sun 
Aren’t just in the softness of your blooms 
But in the armor that you’ve chiseled from 
The tempests - stormy and searing
I looked at the ruby that had sprung 
On my fingertip that you had stung
It dazzled on my glistening skin 
Its precious seams filling my lungs
My essence and throb, O Wondrous one 
I found that day in the scorching sun.

I FEEL OUT OF TOUCH

I feel out of touch 
A tad bit rusty 
Cranky and creaky
Tinny and such 
The words clump together 
With a grind and a grate
I wonder if a month away 
Has dulled my tapestry of verse 
Shimmering skeins that advance and traverse 
Embroidering and stitching 
Notions and qualms
Into billowing storms 
Into rippling, sashaying ribbons of calm 
Bewildering phrases that make me guffaw 
Festering sentences painful and raw 
In bobbing waves with lacy edges
In crashing, lashing, tearing deluges 
In twinkling stardust upon my page 
My blinking cursor running away 
With the train of my thoughts to the drum of my heart 
Laughing, singing, assuaging an ache 
Grieving, weeping, caught in the wake 
I wonder if my keyboard, unstirred, unscathed
For two score nights and forty days 
Has borne my quickening string away.