Welcome back to A Poem A Week! This poem first appeared in Beetle Magazine in 2020. The piece was written in the thick of the pandemic, and I do think my writing my has changed and grown a lot since. When revisiting my older pieces, I’m often acutely aware of how ‘imperfect’ they are. Perhaps all more the reason to share them! Let’s begin.
Urban Dreamscapes
the evening powders into violet dust. the sun is distant & dizzy.
the sky stretches out like imagination, like something from a dream.
if this was a dream, it would be quiet; the kind where nothing happens.
there is no story here, no chasing or falling, only that washed-out texture
of a dream, flushed and freckled, faded like a photograph of the rain.
a dream where nothing happens. there is no story here. but for a moment,
the city fell asleep and it dreamt up a sunset. in the half-dark of the evening,
our lives are dazed and flecked with pink. windows light up one by one,
the yellow flickering of lives shuffling, working late, hunched over tea,
lost in small arguments, heating up leftovers, or simply growing older.
maybe they all stir in this same violet dream, searching through the hush
of bedrooms and kitchens to find someplace familiar. the city fell asleep
and dreamt up a million lives. the world is slipping away and i let it go,
i settle into the dream. there is something relentless about imagination
how it is emphatic that there can be life, yes there can be life.
life even after this.
only that washed-out texture
of a dream, flushed and freckled, faded like a photograph of the rain.
Before You Go…
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Finally, talk to me in the comments: How do you relate with your older work? Is there a past work that you are particularly proud of? If so, drop a link below so I can read it!
I’ll be back with new writing next week. Until then, take care.
Love,
Anagha
Love this poem. It very much still carries your voice, Anagha! I wonder if sometimes we just notice differences in our older work and label them deficiencies, being our own harshest critics.
I know what you mean, though. I actually really enjoy when I find an older piece and find several (or even one) ways to improve it.
I have a poem from my early days (still barely over a year old; my poetry career is young even if I am not) going out Wednesday. It’s quite raw and I decided not to touch it. It’s too much a snapshot of how I felt at the time and I can’t really bring myself to make edits from my current self. Others I have edited quite a bit!
I really like this