And with a last flirtatious sweep of green skirts, summer sauntered off, not deigning to come back for a while. And now do you smell that, my love? That's winter and Christmas right around the corner.
True, I yearn for far off places, for paths untrodden, for places unexplored. I wish to see the ocean, feel its waters lapping against my feet, watch the yellow sun sink slowly inside it, and get sand inside my shoes.
I want to go to places where no one knows my name, nor my language. And I would be free to lose myself among a crowd of people.
I want to see Ireland, walk the streets where Yeats ached for a woman with a pilgrim's soul, feel its winds, hear its music, drink its beer, yeah!
Maybe I can only visit these places in books, films and in flights of fancy. Maybe I will visit them someday. And maybe they will disappoint, or maybe they won't.
I yearn for far off places, true, but this I know.
Lying down on an empty stretch of road under an October night -sky, an October rain-sodden dance on a bridge while trucks pass us by, walking through my Xmas tree-lighted neighbourhood on Christmas, guitar music-filled bonfire nights under our fir tree, and finally, the faint air of revelry and hope in cold January- I associate them all with you.
So no matter how far away from you life may take me, October, December and January, I will always be yours, my beloved, imperfect hills that I call home.
True, I yearn for far off places, for paths untrodden, for places unexplored. I wish to see the ocean, feel its waters lapping against my feet, watch the yellow sun sink slowly inside it, and get sand inside my shoes.
I want to go to places where no one knows my name, nor my language. And I would be free to lose myself among a crowd of people.
I want to see Ireland, walk the streets where Yeats ached for a woman with a pilgrim's soul, feel its winds, hear its music, drink its beer, yeah!
Maybe I can only visit these places in books, films and in flights of fancy. Maybe I will visit them someday. And maybe they will disappoint, or maybe they won't.
I yearn for far off places, true, but this I know.
Lying down on an empty stretch of road under an October night -sky, an October rain-sodden dance on a bridge while trucks pass us by, walking through my Xmas tree-lighted neighbourhood on Christmas, guitar music-filled bonfire nights under our fir tree, and finally, the faint air of revelry and hope in cold January- I associate them all with you.
So no matter how far away from you life may take me, October, December and January, I will always be yours, my beloved, imperfect hills that I call home.
15 comments:
Lyrical, wistful, beautifully, poetically wrought :)
beautiful. I am blown away.
brilliant display of wordsmithy :-).... Fine work Ku2....
the rhythm swayed me away...
Some more in November?
@Calliopia and Aduhi: Thank you, thank you! The wood-smoke coming fromour kawmthlangte vawk chaw chhumna made me all nostalgic, hence the sentiment :)
@anon: Thank you! Ive always been kinda indifferent towards November, so let's see :)
October - get married under the brightest moon
December - a month of celebrations, for others it may be two occasions, but for me and you, an extra occasion ;-)
January - ummm, ahhh, new year, new beginning, and birthdays to remember :-)
You write so well my dahlin. Muah
Nice!
See, that's all a non-poetic guy like me can say to describe this post. That's why I suck at poetry. But hey, you know I mean well, and it's the intention that counts, right? :)
Hetiang deuh lampang hi ka lo ziak ve chiah sin mak top...but ka la zo lo deuh keichu.This "Prove that you're not a robot" thingi before commenting is annoying.Isn't it a little early for that-by at least a century or so?I couldn't even decipher those words 80% of the time!Frankly,I have to think hard about whether it's worth all the tsuris to comment at all(but not on yours btw).I'm not a robot.I wish Blogspot would take my word for it.And again beautifully written and lucid. I am your fan:)
@mimi hrahsel: Thank you kindly my darl.. nanghi chu i fel, kan important dates te hi minlo hriatpui thlap thlap zela :D i blogah ka comment ve theilooo, phone atang tih tlauh2 a ngaia, ninom topz
@mizohican: thank you kindly, sir. I cant write poetry either, much as i'd like to, so I try to write poetical-sounding prose.
@Mimikyo: You wrote the Jonathan-David friendship before I could, and articulated what I felt about Mary Magdalene, so I guess this proves great minds think alike? :D Niaaa, ka ning top, hmanah chuan ka dah duhloa, mahse spam hi alo awm thin a. I can't read em too, Robots te chuan they would probably be able to read the word verification thingy, a generate tu pawh machine tho ania, its we poor humans who cant read the friggin' stuff. These machines are takin' over!!
wah, wah, bahut khoob!
Hey, I saw your comment to an older post. Check out this singer Rodriguez (from the Detroit area). The ironies in his story is very interesting. He was writing and singing in the 60s but was never embraced by the imagination of the civil rights movement. Unbeknownst to him, his music was taken up in South Africa and became a Dylanesque figure for the anti-apartheid movement. There was a movie on him at a recent Sundance festival.
Ka thiam loh lam pang chu i va thiam in i va han ziak nalh kher ve. Well done.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over
a chap from England called John Masefield wrote this.
Beautiful. I want to see more of this kind of writing, please. Longer pieces - I have a good reason (tell you in person) Keep writing!
@philo: On it! Thanks! :)
@daniel: I comments hi a positive thei, midang blog-ah te pawh. Thank you! :)
@Mos-a: "A merry yam"??
@DDB: Ooooh, okay, and thanks :)
well done
it was
a lovely
read
feeding me
making me
dream
of far
away places
too...
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