Wading through the flotsam of flubs and failures
I chance upon a paper boat named Déjà Vu
I step in it and set sail
navigating the meandering tributaries of time.
A whiff of familiarity, a glimpse of serendipity
greets me at every bend I take,
reminds me of my lilac gown, a stolen kiss,
or perhaps, a sparkling stein of Chardonnay
sipped under the wrinkled moonbeams
shimmering across the ocean of memories,
waiting for the sun to rise and cast them away.
I have long floated away from the island of hope –
that four-letter illusion of the heart
which eggs me on to hang tight, to fight, to wait.
Instead, I’ve moored on the fabled land of the lotos-eaters.
I now serenade ennui
or hum a lullaby of languor –
a lambent metaphor for waxing wishes,
sprinkling the confetti of crushed novalunosis
and half-kept promises
on the carmine landscape of my soul.
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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