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Thousand and one

1 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 5
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Anthology 2013 Entries, English Poetry

Heavy in your languor you shot me a thousand times
bit by bit the sharp prick of the arrow,
made way through the skin I wore
tearing into the sheath where a tiny me
with blank white eyes, sat quietly playing life.
The marbles stay where they did.
Childhood lost in growing up
the bloom, in quest
the stretch of a seemingly unending wheat field

never fails to brown my view

lost in its undulant layers
my dreams soft pedaled holding colors,

thousand and one.

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4 Comments

  1. Gion Gion says:

    Purabi,
    Reading and re-reading this for its complexity and sheer enjoyment of the language.
    I particularly like
    “my dreams soft pedaled holding colors,”
    Fergus

  2. purabi says:

    Thank you Fergus!
    Greetings.

  3. Rajdeep says:

    Wow
    Wow
    Wow
    I loved it

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