a sunset song

the-banquet-magritte
through my bespectacled eyes,
i cannot pinpoint when the orange
turns to blush, or when the savage
evening bares its blunt fangs for
a final feeding, and still, i am
engrossed in the spectacle of
this agitation, or the sense of
its happenstance, its belief —

a half-dead day looks down on
its own destiny, of consumption
without pleasure. my pink-gold
lips flutter in this breeze that is
no breeze and i hear the drop
of a celestial bell, coming
into being,

purple sights cartwheel in this
shadow-scene.

where do you go from here?
where do you find a colorless sunset
for your blindness?

left behind —

a nightless mood
revels in this pause, that goes on
and on,

as survival hangs by the toe-nail
of a petrified sky, pure in the pale-
horror, turning into

ashes, tears, and
undesired rebirths.

.
© Anmol Arora 2018

For The Midweek Motif at PU
Image source (Magritte’s The Banquet)

***
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21 thoughts on “a sunset song

  1. Yes sunsets are magical and mysterious. luv your poem.
    I know that song, the video you shared but its the first time I’ve heard itperformed by Eva Cassidy, Nice

    Happy you dropped by my blog today Anmol

    much love…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sometimes the inability to fully experience a moment, for instance, a sunset with all its colors and visions, quite daunting. It is a kind of blindness that hinders one to enjoy and cherish such experiences. Thanks, Sherry.

      Like

  2. I’ve had to read this over and over–what a day for end games! This is where I am hanging on a thread: “a half-dead day looks down on
    its own destiny, of consumption
    without pleasure.” How is it possible to write a poem bleaker than mine? But let me decide this is fantasy/scifi and enjoy the sights in purple cartwheels, the toe nail keeping place, the possibility of rebirth from ashes. Powerful!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’d love to read it from your perspective of a fantasy or a science fiction. It helps in distancing oneself from the bleakness of one’s own experience of reality.
      I am not too sure about the rebirth. Ha!

      Thank you for sharing your wonderful thoughts, Susan! ❤

      Like

  3. Wow! This sun does look like a ‘carnivorous flower’ as well as this darkness. Half dead day to be gnashed, consumed soon as savage evening lie in wait. “survival hangs by the toe-nail”. So thoroughly enjoyed every word of this poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Pat: willow88switches says:

    you really set the tone and pace in the first stanza – with the wondering on the day, as it crushes itself closer and closed;

    i cannot pinpoint when the orange
    turns to blush, or when the savage
    evening bares its blunt fangs for
    a final feeding –

    this is breathtaking – the counterpoint of the delicate with the savage, almost feral –
    and then we continue to drop into the colours, the emotions, the sense of dislocation for the moment, or perhaps, it’s suspension –

    this is a poem that is neither resolved nor dissolved, for as surely as the light will chase the dark, eventually, and the scene repeats – metaphorically speaking – until something shifts for the sighting, [citing, site-ing?]

    definitely a melancholy reservation and musing that is broad in its depth and scope – and indeed, the lingering question:

    where do you find a colorless sunset
    for your blindness?

    well done HA

    Liked by 1 person

    • And the question lingers.
      I agree that there is no resolution to this predicament/acknowledgment. This scene repeats in all its colors and non-colors, for that is the way of senses and sensory experiences and their depravity too.
      I am glad and amused by the fact how this sighting could easily be citing or siting.

      Thank you for your wonderfully worded thoughts, Pat.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. mhmp77 says:

    kaykuala

    as survival hangs by the toe-nail
    of a petrified sky, pure in the pale-
    horror,

    To be faced with the incoming night sky can be a woeful experience. Most take it as an inconvenience before another day. This is surviving the tests of darkness. Great poem HA, true revelation!

    Hank

    Liked by 1 person

  6. The opening lines are brilliant, Anmol! What a great way to put into words the way the sunset melts:
    ‘i cannot pinpoint when the orange
    turns to blush, or when the savage
    evening bares its blunt fangs for
    a final feeding…’
    and I love the play on bespectacled/spectacle!
    Poor old ‘half-dead day’ looking down on its own destiny.
    I also love:
    ‘…survival hangs by the toe-nail
    of a petrified sky, pure in the pale-
    horror…’

    Liked by 1 person

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