Ah, incompleteness!

EMPIRE OF THE EVENING


Feel giddy, dizzy, you know, a bit woozy
Like in a state of the nation of Halluci
The sight I just saw, yea, and still see
There, in the middle of the road, a pixie...

...long hair lying loose, is it a she?
Heavens! Why is that bothering me?
Existentially, I'm entrenched in reality
And she, or he, should he/she even be?


Just standing there, oblivious
To the traffic uproarious
I find it quite lugubrious
It should be so inconspicuous

For no one's looking his/her way
she's that needle in that stack of hay?
She winks when she catches my eyes
Comes up, says 'Hi', I evince surprise...

"I thought you'd speak in ancient tongues"
She guffaws loud and long - good lungs.
'My tongue's only as old as me', she grins
'And learning English was one of my sins

By now, I'm fascinated utterly
Even though when life runs normally
Talking to pixies isn't my cup of tea
But now? Right up my alley.

'I've been cast out by voting with a show of hand
from the Empire of the Evening, our hallowed land
They said - "Go to them whom you so admire.
That you want to change this heavenly empire" '

It registers now, she's wearing denim jeans
And that hair's straightened, with a glossy sheen
She looks at me looking over it
'Schwarzkopf hair colour and straightening kit'

.....
...
.

HA! Did it. Posted an incomplete 'poem'. 

History: One fine evening, while watching the sun cast all those long shadows outside my clinic which was experiencing a lull in patients at the time, I was overcome with the thought of what it would feel like if I could really write poetry... You know, think up a fancy title, then get inspired by something... (or the other way around)... and spout verses that could cause shivers to run up the spine of the readers.

So, I got all determined to try it out. The title came first, from the scenes unfolding in the twilight outside - 'Empire of the Evening'. There, that had a nice ring to it. Now, what would inspire a poet who had such a good title... I scouted the shadows, and one of the many tiny idiotic voices that keep up the cacophony inside my head said - 'No one would notice even a pixie in that particular shadow'

"A pixie? That's not what I was looking for. I was looking for something a bit more grand."

'That's the point, exactly. No one looks for pixies because they are not as grand, as say, Griffins?... Perhaps that's why we never see them, because we just don't look for them"

As more inspiration was not forthcoming, I, depressed, guessed I'd better do whatever could be done with a pixie. 

And when the first patient of the evening arrived, I had arrived at this.

...

Then I forgot all about it, and weeks went by. Last week, I found the scrap of paper while looking for a case-sheet, tried to make out what it was that I had wanted to do with this ( - turn it into a satire of our society using a comparison with a fairy one? Lampoon politics/feminism/fantasy writers?) and failed. I had no idea.  Completing it seemed a drag, so I decided to do some 'face your fear' therapy, and get over my phobia of publishing an incomplete work - which is one of the perks of having a blog. Consequently - this.

(When, oh Webbhagawaan, will my blog have many followers milling around, who will respond with alacrity when I post something like this, and complete it with many versions - you know, like those chain poems in forums... That'd be fun)

Anyway, reading it again, it's safe to say Serious Poetry Writing is in no danger of being addled by me anytime soon... Peace.