After spending 2 months roaming about in a beautiful, ancient land.
-as described by by each of the 5 senses.


Walk in Italy

There is only so much an eye can see.
For there are so many ways of opening a window.
They look out to the streets,
to the crooked roofs,
they unfold into domes.
You can see,
this dome too was born to parents of several soil
and not to siblings.
For every step that knows nothing more,
it might be walking over the burning Sun,
that once was in the sky.
The fingers itch, to pick a thorn
and release the breath from the stones.
It thinks too well of itself.
For every defect has made it real.
You muffle it in silence and it turns into the rats of your kitchen,
you dress it in words, it becomes another person.
It is perhaps you, whom you despise.
It spoke through my lips,
the tower of uncertainity.
The head turns up to look,
the heroic skies part.
I wonder if Gods too fall from sky.
The neck bends down to search.
Barren lands move.
Mosses have eaten them.
They were once alive.
But sometimes they scream
and whispers reach a passerby.
The hair on the back of the neck jitter.
For it feels a serenity in the graveyards.
It is definetely not a dream,
it is not. A nightmare.
For my senses see beyond me.
But for tonight, I go into the comforts of my bed
with the discomfort of hope that tomorrow is another day.




Poetry by nausheen
Read 938 times
Written on 2017-09-27 at 10:01

Tags Italy  Culture  Architecture 

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I'm charmed by the lines "the fingers itch to pick a thorn/ and release the breath from the stones" --- well done!
2017-09-27