The image of the summer

The image of a summer afternoon

Sometimes the wave inside my head
looks like a silent word, or like 
a clean afternoon of California summer.
On those days I do art. I paint a haunted house,
gather all the wordlessness inside it,
and put a lock on the canvas.

Sometimes a lump in the throat
feels like a thousand unsaid words,
or like emotions on a stormy day by the pacific.
On those days I reach out to words. I transform
every part of my hollowness into a poem,
and try to make it look like
a glass mirror to seek my soul.


Author: Archita

Musings about life and photography.

10 thoughts on “The image of the summer”

  1. Thank you. I am almost not myself in summer. I go crazy when temperature outside reaches 100. And words do not come to me easily if I am not at peace, at least with the weather outside. Sorry for being away for too long. But I read your WFY whenever I wanted words to heal. Thank you for being there. And a big thank you for those lines by Frost. Loved them.

  2. Beautiful poem, Archita. Reminds me of Frost:

    “A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a homesickness or a love sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.”

    ― Robert Frost

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