Wednesday, August 13, 2014

The Artist

Slipped her hands, feeling the anklets' beads,
Tingling sounds, like wind chimes and breeze,

Wearing it on, stood  in a pose,
With hand gestures, a dancer she supposed

the wind, the sky, the trees, the birds,
everything surreal were audience to her,

Opening her doors of imaginations, Spree!
To the sounds of birds, her expressions - glee!

rustled the leaves; and clouds of thunder,
she wore on her face, a symbol of fear

the passing clouds, and the clear sky bright,
concealed the fright on her face, with delight

her sorrowful face, heard the distant bazaar
tampering the peace, of her oneness hour,

evoked now, by the feeling of wonder,
blown by the wind, that  moment of terror,

the musical notes of the anklets on her feet
made her dance, as the expressions repeat,

heroic it seems, her care free mimes,
even to the nature's signs, she rhymes.

as she sequels the eight hues of expressions,
the door ajar, and she showed, the last essence

expression they are, of an emotional appeal,
if  only she could visualize, the beauty of her feel.

The Artist - a poem about a blind girl who portrays herself as a classical dancer, wearing on the anklets and dancing to the natures music,with her profound expressions of the navarasas.

Hear it here


Anonymous said...

wow..the imagery is intense...nice theme Archana, and written beautifully... :-)

V. Archana said...

Thanks athira :)

Ankur Anand said...

too good .. very nice imagery as well as intensive :)

Arv said...

well written mate.. strikes a chord :)