Wednesday, March 30, 2011

At a Certain Age

We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers.
White clouds refused to accept them, and the win
Was too busy visiting sea after sea.
We did not succeed in interesting the animals.
Dogs, disappointed, expected an order,
A cat, as always immoral, was falling asleep.
A person seemingly very close
Did not care to hear of things long past.
Conversations with friends over vodka or coffee
Ought not be prolonged beyond the first sign of boredom.
It would be humiliating to pay by the hour
A man with a diploma, just for listening.
Churches. Perhaps churches. But to confess there what?
That we used to see ourselves as handsome and noble
Yet later in our place an ugly toad
Half-opens its thick eyelid
And one sees clearly: “That’s me.”
                                                                       by Czeslaw Milosz


Rima said...

Brilliant! These faces have an Eastern European feel to them like the poet :) Beautifully wrought .. your work always intrigues me Priya.

pRiyA said...

Thank you Rima!

vineeta said...

Gripping. poem and illustration. Have not seen work like this from you before. Its the next level. Respect.

pRiyA said...

Thank you babe, thank you. Yup I am crawling forward...

Junuka said...


Slogan Murugan aka M S Gopal said...

Wow. And I think you can write as well as u create visual imagery. try and see

pRiyA said...


agnes szucs said...

These are amazing, Priya! Both, the illustration and the poem.
I agree with Rima on the Eastern-Europen thing...


pRiyA said...

thank you agnes :-) hugs back.