Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

These Days...

I

These days
I find everything staged:
the words of comfort you plant,
the concern that I fake,
the platitudes that we toss,
twirl, throw into each other’s face.
How brittle is our truth
that we wrap it with pretexts
believing love holds good
only in certain contexts.

II

The other day
at Carter Road,
when the Sun was
a speck of orange in your eye
and the world
a soot covered portrait,
I felt I had a poem for you
but then, these days, I don’t write poems.
I look for words instead,
words that string into freshly minted idioms;
idioms that burrow into the silences
you puncture our conversations with.

III

In the quietness of the night
the simmering underbelly
of this ever-changing city
explodes into a shrill scream
unheard from the glistening
living rooms of Malabar Hill
draped with Bach's Symphony.

But I strain to hear your voice
In this mutinous noise…

© Dan Husain
March 25, 2006

4 comments:

velvetgunther said...

Hey this is nice! There's a boo boo though, Bach's never written a symphony, that form of music was invented after Bach.

Cocaine Jesus said...

bach being of the barouqe period right?

the poem though is simply perfect and a delight to read.

Dan Husain said...

Well VG, my knowledge in music is poor but before I wrote the poem I did a google on "Bach's Symphony", and it did throw some results. I guess it must be some other Bach, not the famous one.

Thanks both of you for appreciating my poem. :-)

Cheers

Dan

velvetgunther said...

Must be Carl Philip Emmanuel Bach or Johan Christian Bach, but when you say Bach, it means Bach..
But what the heck! Nice poem!