Shishir Gupta Poet Free verse

His Own Stew

Monologue,
rambling,
in words,
sounds,
grunts,
shrieks,
and what not,
it was unknown,
what had hit,
and how,
and where,
he was here,
making sounds,
uttering incoherent words,
with suffused red,
in cheeks,
eyes,
shot dark,
the words,
flowed,
now with,
lot of sparks,
he was looking,
for someone,
when,
there was no one,
his words flew and flew,
and came down,
on him,
and now he had to,
of these,
make his own stew.

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