I am not consciously trying to be clever. The poem however is. Trying to be clever I mean.Having wrestled and flexed my mental muscles for an hour I give up and present this as it is. It demands a greater intellect than mine and yet this was how it affected me.
The Blue Rose
The flower peeped out through the eyelashes of time
Crumpled up my notions of perceptual divine
Became the balled up poem in my papered head
That wouldn't articulate itself nor let me rest.
Rose of rhapsodies it rested upon my eyes
Flashing the blind spots of mortal sight
Crackling blue white surges of electric might
It shimmered and sparkled a most unearthly light.
In my mental matrices I ran amok with checks
The meditative rose smiled at my lavish mistakes
In powdery blue display of plush purplish lavender
It glimmered an abandon of secretive splendor
Dispersing notions of sanity inviting surrender
The blue rose rained soft garden of cosmic thunder
This world became cold as ice
on which floated a floral wake
A float of magical bloom, swan lake replayed
enchantment alive, amidst universal doom
Rippling outwards, recreating conceptual room.
Resurrection never returns us to life from death
The futuristic rose chanted in retrospect
The Rose of reality isn't what you see
Love burns it to such distilled purity,
Turns it inside out to the ideal rose of your heart
The image removed perfects living art
And its the negative that hints what the positive maybe
Can you envision what you're never-yet to see?
I'm blue inalienable as the sky mirrored in the aniline sea
I am the purest form of Rose that is ever-yet to be
Azure oceans of candor livid purple lesions
of passion,
I am the wink of the monk transformed by
Spontaneous ignition
Enlightenment miraculous
A frozen free form potential
icicles of motion.
Chant unfreeze release your power
Realize the random Rose,
You yet maybe,
In immortalised
Never-ever hours.
© Amrita Valan 2015
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