We met last on that noon when Sun was roasting this place alive. You came a bit late, as usual then, And left when that clock struck Five. The sea was tender with some warmth, Enough to remind me of my mom, Who left, pushing me in to that calm Despair, I crawled out though still lame. You came as a welcome breeze And swept my sorrow soon. We intertwined with such an ease That neither expected to be alone. Now there is no one in my life Bigger than you. Now don't be put off! Perhaps love is such a sharp knife Tearing you to see what you are made of. We decided not to reveal this to the world. Our life it is; Just for the two of us. Its as though hiding the sun through folds Of paper. Now everyone knows this. I've been coming here since that day. You haven't been and I know not why. I know you'll come. Someday you may! I can't just move on , would rather die.
(I noticed that there were no responses to this post, and decided to take a look-see And put in a beholder's Annotation in response)Fish Fry on the Beach: We met last on that noon when Sun was roasting this place alive. You came a bit late, as usual then, And left when that clock struck Five. Oh...yes. This is about the fish-fry push-stall of Paarvathi-akka. She comes, parks under the large banyan tree, and provides fresh fish-fry to the lunch crowd of the offices on the beach road. The sea was tender with some warmth, Enough to remind me of my mom, Who left, pushing me in to that calm Despair, I crawled out though still lame. The first person (protagonist) worked in one of those offices, as a lowly LDC, got his job on the handicapped quota, and is pretty grateful for that. You came as a welcome breeze And swept my sorrow soon. We intertwined with such an ease That neither expected to be alone. Ah..ha. Fish fry is like that. It would come in the breeze, soon as the first lot goes into the kadai full of hot oil. No need to bark-out the fare -- the breeze will carry the news into the open windows of the office buildings across the street right pronto. Now there is no one in my life Bigger than you. Now don't be put off! Perhaps love is such a sharp knife Tearing you to see what you are made of. Some people can go hog-wild for fish (how is that for a kounter-kosher kompliment for a kosher food, eh?). Just being hungry, and loving it is sufficient to tear and eat; no need for knife like western people. We decided not to reveal this to the world. Our life it is; Just for the two of us. Its as though hiding the sun through folds Of paper. Now everyone knows this. Clever..when you find a good place, best keep it a secret and not crowd it out. Just like the sun can burn through and reveal itself, so would the oil slick from the fish. It would make the newsprint transparent, and reveal all the printed matter on both sides, as if there is no paper in between. Blimey... this is so deep. I've been coming here since that day. You haven't been and I know not why. I know you'll come. Someday you may! I can't just move on , would rather die. Whhaaaa... looks like she found a different spot, with more footfall at lunch time. Even a Michelin food critic won't go this far in hyperbole. Perhaps it just goes to show that if you are handicapped, working on a poor income, your ability to go to a variety of places to eat is quite limited. Why do people say "there's plenty of fish in the sea" ?
That’s nice phrasing. I presume there is something more to the poem. I am less convinced with ultimate line. I am agog to read your response to annotated lines above #2 by sister @Amulet Such a phrase such lines Besotted mind kudos to you. God likes poets and their poems eulogising Him.
Kwestin: Why do those benevolent orders of nuns use only the names of direct relatives like sister, mother? Answer: ....because they don't marry, and therefore, couldn't have aunts, uncles, in-laws etc.. etc.. Kwestin: Can we address social media members as if they are nuns ? Answer: No, you shouldn't. People in the virtual world are like holy ghosts. Not relatives. Poems may be annotated in whatever way it hits you. For example in the OP, imagine "s/he" is a volunteer for the SPCA. Goes to the city pound everyday around noon. One day, s/he decides to take home a puppy. S/he and the dog bond. Eventually s/he abandons the dog (for whatever reason), and the dog goes alone on their favorite daily walk, and mulls thusly: I've been coming here since that day. You haven't been and I know not why. I know you'll come. Someday you may! I can't just move on , would rather die.
Annotation of the last stanza was meant as a hint for homework to write the annotation of the rest of the stanzas. Go ahead and try it. Be that as it may, the reason that poets do not write prose is the intent to let it hang loose, and be flexible as to how the audience would interpret the work. If they had wanted to be well-defined, and put a spec on what's-what and who's-who, they'd have written prose; wouldn't they ? Teacher: why do people suspect Bacon wrote some/all of Shakespeare plays? Student: The plays are so full of flavor, and....well.. bacon is a flavor enhancer.