Three Poems
By Willie Gordon Suting
The Dancer
Words that rhyme like falling dewdrops
come from her cherry lips.
Her quiet eyes sing a different tune
as she sadly dreams of dancing to the spotlights.
The summer sun had once touched her cheeks at noon
and told her she will dance like a free bird.
But the little town had cast her in its uneventful movie,
where happy endings seem never to occur.
Her light and once poetic limbs
are frozen
and her supple torso
bends only at times when she puts her wedges on…
But she will fly away one day from this place!
She will dance no more with her shadow
but under the rainbow in the charming blue sky
with the smiling sun that would sing to her.
Leaves of boughs would weep in joy
and the sparrows, her friends,
would whisper words, words of her that rhyme…
The city’s window will open when it hears her words,
and it will see her dance,
dance with an honest joy,
weaving a story that would speak of nothing but love.
***
A Curious Case
He walks the pavements of Laitumkhrah.
Says he whispers to himself
Others see him making strange
indistinct noises.
Everywhere he goes
He carries a paperback in his black trench coat
It’s a novel by Joyce,
A story about a poet.
When he sits alone in that same old
Bus-stand
He quivers and shivers when he reads.
He sees those words dance in the air
He wickedly smiles as he mumbles
and mumbles “Me…am…poet…”
The sad memory flickers with
colours of fame and glory
Nothing is lost to a man who believes.
***
With Him
I play hide and seek in my sleep
with a dark figure who visits me.
My hands were once nailed in the bathroom wall
As he tried to consume me with his shadow.
But I narrowly escaped,
Somehow…
I offered him diamonds
I offered him gold
when yesterday he said he stole
a part of me that loves to feel love.
I’ve died many years
disappearing from the world trying to cry.
When I walk alone in those busy pavements
All alone
I see his eyes in unfamiliar faces
Sometimes I used to smile
to my mother with his strange smile.
Painting source: Here
Bio:
Willie Gordon Suting is a writer and poet from Shillong, Meghalaya, India. His writings have appeared in Thumbprint magazine, Raiot webzine, the Sunday Supplement of The Shillong Times newspaper and The Northeast Today magazine (online version). He currently works as a schoolteacher in Shillong. Willie blogs at: williegordonsutingblog.wordpress.com.
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