Monday, October 24, 2005

Who Can it Be?

Late last night trying to cure my insomnia,
I was reading through the tome
Contemporary Poetry. Having
read it so many times before, it was
almost like my mates body to me.
I knew exactly what was where.
There is so much pleasure in such predictability.
So much bliss in the expected
that can be brailled out unerringly for solace,
in the darkest of the dark moments.
These poems were tattooed by
by my inane overboard exclamations,
“Wow, “ “Good”, “Great”, “Too Good” etc.,
that if the authors had seen, would have
banned me from reading their poetry altogether.
Or sometimes, if it was a particularly puzzling
Pound like piece, it would just sport
a date when I had first banged my head against it.
Thought provoking lines were highlighted.
These I reread, relished. Like they
were my hard won trophies of
surviving my trips through the
poets whirlpool of words.
Browsing across one such oft reread poems,
I saw a line that I did not understand.
But I had underlined it.
I stopped still.
If I didn’t understand it,
then why did I underline it?
If it is not me, then
who else would have?
I felt enraged, as though I was violated.
Worse, my lovers body, defiled.
With my insomnia now
totally un curable, I tossed about
through the night, trying to decode
that underlined sentence.
What? Who? Why? When?
Finally in the bleary early
morning light, I reread that line,
and I understood.
Maybe there is more in me than just myself.

4 Comments:

Blogger Maltova said...

Without tattoing anymore, let me just say, we grow up and sometimes forget the times when things were beyond our comprehension. since then, we've learnt and unlearnt a lot...

Atleast you slept well knowing all too well that she was'nt defiled.

I liked the last line...

9:34 AM  
Blogger bilbo said...

Maybe there is more in me than just myself.


that , siggy , was priceless

3:17 PM  
Blogger Ardra said...

siggy!
there's nothing more I'd like than getting my hands on a book that has been transcripted with a reader's personal observations on the margin!
and yes it has happenned to me too- after picking up a book again after a long time- either the old responses fail me- or a totally new perspective opens up!

and then at such times, I find a stranger lurking within myself with whom I've to get acquainted with all over again!

very interesting read...
ardra

9:21 PM  
Blogger ~River~ said...

"Maybe there is more in me than just myself."

Sums it up perfectly. Sometimes, when I go back to old books, I fail to decipher the marginalia of my past. It's so weird, but true. I love it when it happens with second-hand books. I have a poem where I mention sentences underlined by a stranger.

3:14 AM  

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