Kokils Fly
Rojio Usham *
Wheezing Kokils, when
I draw near to one of them
Where Sono and Fono men,
Covering the land by them;
And half-starved foxes
Hides from the massesv
Marching and dancing on the floor
In stone waves and rock water, store.
Sharmila's winter in the capital
Fire everywhere on sale
Lalmohan Singh's sweet promises
Disguise into gasses.
The pain of being born into matter,
Figures of light and dark splinter;
They tear apart the mist, it is as infer
The purest form is always the one
To restaurants for the Early Bird One
Kabok, Chempaak, Paaknam, Yongchaak Singju
Will be penciled on the Cafe Coffee Day's menu;
Glimmering of light
Beneath the sun bright
Traces of these deep cuts lie
Onto my frozen fingers, die.
At the vanishing street
Dim, and die tonight?
Calling me with wild gesturing,
Is the moon growing?
A pallid yellow lingers
With my frozen fingers;
Sleeping, dreaming and wandering.
I seek, above all, in the wandering.
Would the world remain comfortably?
As the distant memories fade out leisurely
Through the fog-dimmed shaft of light,
In the most intense fight;
Rain, Rain, Rain… We are forced to fly.
* Poem from Rojio Usham .
He can be contacted at urojio(at)gmail(dot)com . This poem was webcasted on May 05, 2009.
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