Fishy


All these images rollicking in my brain,
Like school of restless fish,
Most of the time are too swift to catch,
Light wouldn’t be that fast, Sorry Einstein!
But sometimes, I do catch them,
Like one would catch an eel with bare hands,
It is just for an instant,
I get a feel for those images,
How they contort, how they make no sense!
Like a bicycle with no front wheel ,
Something I have never seen before,
Something I have never imagined too,
Unstable, unusable.
 
And then there is this.
I, pretending to be a fisherman,
Sitting in my table, in front of my notebook,
Biting on gory tip of a half chewed pencil,
Trying to catch the fish I could show to you,
To impress you, to satiate you,
This setup, this chair, table, paper, pencil,
And three half spent cigarettes on ashtray,
My fishing nets,
To trap some images,
Vivid enough to transform into a metaphor,
And the bait,
My own suffering!
 
 





 



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