Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Putrefaction

Love died that night
but I clung on,
for the heart's sake,
to the corpse.
The decay would soon
and did
set in
but I clung on.
The rot spread
and our lives were
putrefied.
It didn't matter,
I told myself.
Wasn't love itself
life,
before it died?


(C) Jatin Gandhi, April 4, 2005

13 comments:

jerry said...

If there's something I really like about your poems, it is the endings. There's this uncanny twist to it that is very elaborate. It stings you with a million thoughts. I think this would be one of my favourites.

Amit Singh said...

This is it
You are here
Like fall color
Like an angel out of a dream
Like a forgotten flower came to light
Like the night sky opening into the light

Here you are
like the one you are
nobody but the one you are

my poetry journal said...

i have known only one amit singh all my life. are you the one?

amit singh said...

it is true
as the daybreaks
that is who i am
the one i am known as
the only one
the one that is you and me together
and none other but that one

my poetry journal said...

and where are you?
i laugh and i cry,
as i ask this.
but i still ask,
where you are.
because, i want to know,
and when i know,
i will laugh and cry again,
for ol' times' sake.
because i seek myself,
as i seek you,
i seek nobody
but the one you are,
i am,
was and will be,
may be, may be not.

amit singh said...

i am here
inside you like a lost father
like a lost mother

looking for you
like i am inside you
in here where you are
there is a flower
in here where you are is
a flower unfolding unto the light

you the light
and me the one
who knows the flower
and the light
to be one as me

my poetry journal said...

i have looked inside
and found you
at other times
i have found myself.
i can't say i have been
unhappy to find
what i found.
i was happier
searching.
so i must go back
and search
seeking you
and myself.
you must tell me
if you know
where to go
or the search will lead me,
as it has.
we may meet
on the way
or at the end
and then again,
go on
searching for the
eternal search
that is so rythmic
that it gets musical.
in that music
we are one
like we were
when we were
together
then and now.

amit singh said...

well,
we are together now for sure
the meaning is empty though,
and the presence is empty too

like i am here just the way i am
and you are where yuou are by itself
of no accord
by itself, just by itself

there is nothing there but
the presence of being alive
like we are not there
and what is
is not there and what is
is not there either
and we come to
the end of all what is

and then we find what is not there
this loneliness, theis presence
in our bones that says,
love me more,
like i am dying
like i am not here,
so you can love me
as much as you can

and come to me
the way you are like
a child, like a one
who is not there

but a thing is there,
that is not there
but he presence of everything in it
like a seed that sprouts and sprouts
and still remains the one there is

there is nothing else there otherwise
just this longing, this brooding
to be there somewhere
we are not,
a space that is not made by one who is there,
but one who is not there,
empty of form, and meaning
quiet, like oneness
and peace and feeling like
there is nothing to do,

but this silence pervades like
an empty sapling
free of meaning otherwise
but not of its own self

like a reed that plays music,
not of its own making,
but of the world.

Yamini said...

What do I say?
Comment on
'comments'
or on the
post

my poetry journal said...

first, on the post. then, on the comments. :D

simmi said...

pheew! what an exchange...sounds like a long lost brother???

saw a painting of yours, would like to see more.

my poetry journal said...

he isn't a long lost brother Simmi. he is much more than that.

Amit Singh said...

Amit here again.

Love to see you soon.

How are you doing, coulnd't meet you when I was in India. Very sad about it. How have you been.

Amit