Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

From the Windowsill

by aditi mody

She sat upon her bed of pearls
Distraught about the selfish world
Her tears fell from her starry eyes
Her eyes that knew a countless lies.
 
She tapped her nail upon the wood
She tapped it harder than she should
And as she saw it break away
She wished upon a better day
 
She undid a crease upon her dress
Her dress which was the very best
Her hair which shone of golden sun
With perfect ribbon in perfect bun
 
Her tears they left a trail behind
A trail that she would never find
A trail when quiet, would only grow louder
A trail which lay under daily powder
 
Her breath it stunk of finest wine
From many men with many a line
And love for her was disposable at best
And she felt it everywhere except her chest
 
 
She twirled between her fingers fine
Her golden hair that was not mine
And in her beauty a crease once more formed
All truth was present behind her beauty adorned
 
And as I watched her from the sill
She looked back at me and smiled at me still
A shot of empathy with a dash of delight
I envied her beauty and all that was right
 
Her creases were roots, within her skin
Still I loved everything she had, everything within
Her powder mask covered her imagined beauty
And being like her has become a duty
 
The truth is her hair will always shine like the sun
The wine will still work till she finds that one
And when she does, I’ll still be there
Watching and wishing that this brown skin turns fair.

Added: 18.01.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

07.05.2011

Very poetic - we can almost imagine your voice here! But,I imagine you better expressing this voice without rhymes. Try it, u have style!

14.05.2011

Best poem I've read so far in the judging.

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