Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Dark night is closer, after your
Callings, callings from the half -seen trees.
Night owls are crying. A smile is 
Ominous dancing in the branches.

Of  slow time, night unfolds
Its  ranges of stories, night’s regular acts.
All dead voices are laying ice cold.
 My  prolix is a wakeup call.

Night’s mysteries are awake with my poem
After a long cold sleep at Tirupati.
Foul smells hard, ghostly.
Time is decaying mundane trash.

One uncouth face conjures up,
Other unshaped faces, wild  dark. 
Only the hooded eyes, a simpleton
Strange sounds of howling. What a loss!

The art is moonshine.
My reason is homeless.
A few seeds have life.
My dead brother is back.

Nobody is awake  at this odd  hour
only a child’s unmasked   hooting.
 Spirits of the dead have a night out
for an appointment with the unknown.

The emperor of words, “Take care.”
No matter, how high you fly in the sky
You rain somewhere beyond a known order. Farmers 
are waiting. Your water carries a bread of hope.

You paint houses with poetic colours.

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