Eulogy to Poetry

Sugar granules on my eyelids

define the numb, static voice

beneath the waves of poetry,

absolute darkness.

The times flutter on asymmetrical length

hypnotical lifeless mellow tunes.

Words break, poetry aborts

A mother takes a life of her son.

It’s sharp. Black.

As I think, a tree detaches a leaf

As I swirl, a star weeps

End. End. End.

Nature perspires wax,

drooling loose vibrations,

Ink is lacking from my blood.

My blood is blue in reverse order, stale.

How many more tantrums?

Time is satirical,

and my body sinks in pits of crime

Analogies weep and mother smirks.

Time ruins beautiful things,

spring- Ataxia of Poetry.

P.S- It’s not a complete Eulogy, but it’s quite insane to think what if one day it is?

© MVS

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my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

91 thoughts on “Eulogy to Poetry”

      1. Yeah I was too at the beginning when I read the caption because a eulogy is written as a remembrance…..🎭
        I was a bit sceptic because I didn’t want poetry to die…. 🌎
        But the caption was the opening that made me read the whole thing…❤
        It was perfect…..no blemishes found 😂

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  7. This is good..eulogy with lot of metaphors..I love the way you compared the mother and son relationship with tree and leaf..because generally leaf detach from tree..but you wrote ” tree detaches from leaf” what more can I say about this line..you are absolute symbol of poetic brilliance..and same think you compared with ” ink is missing in my blood” I am learning a lot from your lines..👌👌👌👌..

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  8. Good write
    defining the numb
    poetry abortions
    “a tree detaches a leaf”- like a prosthetic
    the weeping stars wishing their million years end
    perspiration of wax,beeswax-it reminds me of mud
    dauber nests from one of my childhood homes on a crazy steep hill under the super tall wooden back porch.
    i want to build tree houses now.
    well penned.

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  19. Poetry won’t die, as long as there are great writers like you💖💖💖 The last line: “spring- Ataxia of Poetry” speaks to me so much. Ahhh! I hope you feel good today, here’s a sunflower to brighten up your day 🌻 Love & hugs 💖

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  25. This is phenomenal. That title got me chills as I loved it absolutely. There are so many instances that I fell in love with, reading them again. Awesome. I would love to know your opinions on my well, ramblings 😀 Thank you for this one, simply beautiful.

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