December 29, 2007

THE SECRETS OF THE NIGHT

And cats walk the silver street
Tails as question marks
Their paws compete

Orange with brown stripes
Black with white puddles
Brown with black masks
They walk into the night

The air breathes winter:
Veils the windows,
And seduces the leaves

While the burning red
Of pregnant lamps
Haunt the dark corners
Of the night...

And the winds mourn and wail
beckoning morning;
Forgotten letters
Fly as Aladdin's carpets
Sailing into the night

And shadows follow
The lone walkers
Whispering deceitfully where they have been--
To the quiet night

The mandir sleeps alone--
A white concrete of promises
Built on gandhian notes and gold

(The beggars still sleep on the road)

The moonlight tip-toes
Into the night
Anxious to leave the sky
Just this once

And she pours and pours,
And does not stop,
And is caught when the morning arrives...

*

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is nice. Eliot-impressed, rather Eliot-observed. Try something different. Read Heaney. Try something more concrete. High time this blog got a straight as an arrow non-experimental post. Like the older posts. It deserves it. :)

Anonymous said...

The author is really cool. But some of the commentators are just posting stupid words.