a late-night song

“It is Death which consoles men, alas, and keeps them alive.”
— The Death of the Poor, Charles Baudelaire

when the discordant music of late-night
drops its deep-pitch
of sleep&numbness,

i speak to Death, sitting in her unavailing
darkness, filled with wreaths&dreams,
her crown shattered by the treachery
of man. singular and silent, she sits,

letting time discontinue itself
before settling in.

this night, i cannot see her.
knowing that she is, is enough.

.
© Anmol  Arora

Day 3
(Inter)National Poetry Month

Linking it up with Poems in April ~ Late night conversations with the muse at WRT

14 thoughts on “a late-night song

  1. S says:

    “letting time discontinue itself” … Holy wow. What a phenomenal line/thought.

    The last five lines or so are my faves. Telling anyone they are enough is always so comforting.

    Like

  2. sanaarizvi says:

    …. ❤️ such a poetic masterpiece this is, Anmol! There is deep sorrow and pain in each and every word that adorns and makes this poem. I can feel days, hours, minutes and seconds breathing, passing as one lives and ponders upon its depth .. this phrase: “letting time discontinue itself before settling in,” pierces through my heart. Arz kiya hai ..

    “Bichhra kuch iss adaa se ke rut hi badal gayi,
    ek shaḳhs saare sheher ko viraan kar gaya.”

    Thank you so much for writing to the prompt! ❤️

    Like

  3. Susie Clevenger says:

    I think the contemplation of death, makes heartbeat more persistent, our vision more searching, our appreciation of breath humbling.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This is altogether lovely. I too love the line, ‘letting time discontinue itself’. And also ‘her unavailing / darkness’. I like the concept of Death as Muse; your Baudelaire quote reminds me also of Castaneda’s learning: to keep one’s death at one’s left shoulder in order to be more alive. And of course I love that Death is female here. (I once wrote a poem calling her My Lady Death.)

    Liked by 1 person

  5. wildchild47 says:

    this is …. just so piercing and fascinating, a sheer-drop off a cliff face, where one is suddenly suspended in mid-air, even as losing breath for the shock of the impossible, the unseen, – and yet we never fall and hard land.

    it’s all really beautiful, searching and searing – and I particularly loved your closing lines —- they just wrap these ideas, this poem up so damn perfectly.

    superb Anmol!

    Like

  6. Jim says:

    Night thoughts of a discontented half. Sitting near a bottle of pills, “i speak to Death, sitting in her unavailing
    darkness, ” should I or should I not?”
    Nicely written, Anmol. And thank you for yesterday’s prompt.
    ..

    Like

  7. Margaret Elizabeth Bednar says:

    She is the one thing we are all guaranteed in this life … so I suppose to not be so afraid is a wise move, to acknowledge her…. just maybe not in a rush to “court” her…

    Like

Here is where you tell me something...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s