When the long arms of the violet night embrace me
and tear- etched faces jump at me from cracks in the skyline
The stream gurgling behind my tiny cottage
Serenades me with pastoral songs,
erasing those traumatized faces haunting me
till I go into raptures of delirious delight.
The soft hill breeze wafting from the trees
sends me into a reverie, unending.
The moonbeams, in a burst of shimmering compassion
Pierce the all- encompassing fog
Pouring their glimmer on a skeletal man
sitting on a gnarled log, in patched dungarees.
He sighs a long drawn-out sigh,
tapping a tattoo on one pathetic patch
as tears glide down his cheeks.
A new song strokes his tired heart, slowly, silently.
The water ripples on in the creeks.
Peace goes seeking a peacock flaunting its plumage
Bright; settles under a lush tree, listening to the mockingbird sing.
My pen burns, yearning to turn into a brush and splash
the hues of love on the canvas of the sky.
The trees whistle, as the night woos the moon.
My heart dances and applauds this sudden boon.
SEPT/OCT 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
An academician, essayist-novelist -poet, I have an insane passion to write about everything under the sun or the moon! Some of my books like Ballad of Bapu: [a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi] and Where are the lilacs? [a collection of 111 peace poems] have been internationally acclaimed. Flights from my terrace is my ebook of 58 essays on Smashwords .