Two Quiet Pictures and Two Other Poems

by Kislay Chuan

Strangers You and I

Two stood structures in sky 
One is guide of another, strangers you and I 
No longer the berries are blue, and this night 
And the road is far, many streets to try 
To teach two eyes, to ask more than a heart 
To a day, to a night and to a fading art 
Morn and eve pretend to change pictures of sky 
One is guide of another, strangers you and I 

Freedom, what, autumn leaves confined 
I thought it beyond a sailing wind 
The revolutions hidden in those mind 
Where closed eyes and heart bind 
A noise is the slave of quietness, peace 
A truth collects all lies to wash them, cleans 
Then assigns to trust, makes them shy 
One is guide of another, strangers you and I 

That all alone, in a quiet group of flowers 
And color which helps them, empowers 
No longer the gardens are empty, and colors 
Tulips even have found their lovers 
That autumn felicitates spring 
And how the rain lulled that summer sting 
Leading those clouds, and leading sky 
One is guide of another, strangers you and I 

Ocean depths, shook all the blurred pearls 
And every ripple flows them to shores 
Same thing to words, what our heart does 
On its every strength, when a tear whorls 
Overtaken, this time, all the memories 
That past pain of life, and those worries 
No voice, can be heard now in cry 
One is guide of another, strangers you and I

 

Two Quiet Pictures

Two quiet pictures on the wall 
Of life, age looks them strangely 
One with curls up winding fall 
Age called it past, a memory call 
And down beside a dark, second 
The watcher, finds it as a blank paper 
Empty with shaded wishes, a future 
To bid, to make both happy, a present 
The bidders, a time, every second appears 
And ages children with colors 
All bring to life, sit there on knees, in tears 
It was composed, with gathered roses 
The future that was imposed by last white 
Carried with blue sides, innocent snowflakes 
That overtaken, a story foretold, day and night 
Through over flooded desires of present 
Steered, on the silky, silent village 
with designed waysides by summer sunsets 
But every morning still goes to see them 
Those two quiet pictures on the wall 
Less in both, but together, different in same 
And imagine, too confusing, too crescent 
Near that wall, holding up hands, it came 
To burn both of them in fire, the present

 

A Painting

In front of candles, in darkness 
Are you only a painted picture or a clone? 
For which crowd traveled days or nights 
But you look so far away, standing alone 
Are you not real like crowd? 
Real like world? Having golden lights 
Of summer and silver blush of winter 
You look still, you live where no one moves 
Join the emotions, remain in yourself 
But you are silent, You are so calm 
Some days ago you were colors in my life 
Hours I spent to sketch you, painted 
But in midst all losing, your realness 
Every moment changed with joy and sorrow 
But you remained with me, silently 
Either side of my way, of life 
And the time went by 
When lost my rhythm, one day 
I lost the realness of you too, the colors 
And you were put in a corner of room 
Near the dusty place no one cared
A place where walls were grey, blurred 
and you silently noticed my appearance 
My hands got older, and my eyes downed 
And the brush was dried, a torn canvas 
with layers of the spider-webs 
And I was unmoved, like you, lost realness 
But my eyes were on you, thinking still— 
Are you only a painted picture or a clone? 
For which crowd traveled days or nights 
But you look so far away, standing alone—-

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