Rings of Smoke

everynight,my loneliness caresses my cheek | and says, i am all she has lost…

storyteller

Posted on | November 4, 2009 | No Comments

speak.speak.

talk to me in different voices,

speak to me of a million different things

in the million different lands you visited,

tell me amazing stories, astoundingly tall

tales of unbelievable derring-do,

tell me of a million wonders, stories to

last a thousand nights,

and let us live together in those stories,

tell me of the wonders of the human mind,

let us through these stories dicsover the

joy of a baby’s smile, the sorrow of a bud

blooming, the loneliness of a migratory

bird, the savagery of sunset, or the

sudden brutality of a crimson dawn

dazzling the eye.

speak to me in voices of colours, speak of

a violet sorrow, of blue honesty and

beige grief, speak to me in the rough

sandy gray of advancing age, and in the

crispy, linen-white soft and warm voice

of a new birth, tell me tales in the

screaming black noise of pain and in

the brilliant yellow of a vibrant life-

storyteller, leave no colour unpainted on the

canvas of my mind, leave no music

out of your words, however

cacophonous, leave no small detail

untouched- shake me to the core of

being with your stories, devastate me,

raze my existence to the ground with your

stories and build me again. kill me,

storyteller, and give me life.

 

 

PS: even though posted under poetry, this is not really a poem.

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    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.
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