
ink blots on pages of time changing colours teasing in mutant shapes telling stories which are not mine the pen between my fingers asks what to write… A newspaper column A lightning ghazal or truth inscribed on stone? It’s all meaningless after my name Is wiped out colors, shapes of inkblots hidden tales will all change again…
Shakespeare defies the odds!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. There are many more.
LikeLike
And the cycle continues in perpetuity… There is a little sadness here. Maybe those things scribed will carry on?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think I’ve moved beyond the need to be remembered. My protagonists can say things differently.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Certain cultures lay huge importance on having a male child to carry the name forward. Girls adopt their husband’s family names. It is being bypassed as girls retain their maiden name or skip it altogether.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s sad to say but I think pretty much all cultures lay huge importance on it. Another cog in the paternalistic machine. I’m very happy that the young generation are rejecting that way of thinking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hopefully your legacy of poetry will carry on!
Dwight
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dwight 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hopefully but I think this is a very deep look into our transient existence as human beings. We have just lost a friend and husband to a close friend of mine and to this virus, He was a writer and professor of creative writing. I was just thinking today of the loss of his voice. Your words resonate indeed.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I have heard the quote that says, “When an old person dies, a library of knowledge and information dies with them.”
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hope our blogs live 😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
They just might!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, very true and also what happens to our physical library! Have too many books!
LikeLiked by 2 people
YES
LikeLiked by 1 person
The online world can keep a voice alive for sometime, though gradually it gets relegated to basements.
LikeLiked by 1 person