What makes ideology a myth?
When you start questioning it frequently,
on a never ending basis
Its appeal fades like the daily revenue of a nomad whose feet couldn’t even align.
The nomad here is in search of an evening with a breeze that could steer him towards home
Tenderness of his orchard plummets down his throat into the belly, and luckily, hunger subsides.
He remembers those worn out curtains he used to wear as a noose everyday
Tallying the dates with the number of breaths,
he relentlessly toyed with the cords of life everyday
The penultimate day, when the count got to “twenty-nine”, the curtain couldn’t bear the weight.
With the curtain shredded in half, he fell agape on ground, trying to recollect the moment that just passed.
The air was livid with the man.
When is monster not a monster?
A vouch to relentlessly question the Supremacy got him reeling out of the chronic.
Had he gone past “twenty-nine”,
Had he stayed along in an ill set-up,
Those endangered breaths would have whisked straight to hell in vain.
He has a thing for curtains and evenings now.
Every moment is a memory of a previous one
A memory that held the tenderness of life.
A memory that drew that nomad out of a monster.
It’s been a while but it’s better to start off fresh. An attempt to revive my WordPress as well.
In the wake of NaPoWriMo 2021, there was a deep cathartic pull to write something.
Prompts used :
“When is monster not a monster” – Silverleafpoetry
“Tenderness” – The Alipore Post
“Every moment is a memory of a previous one”- Poems India