Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Poetry 2015, Longlist Chandan Kumar

The Epiphany

I was like Alice in wonderland when the matter took form
only to start dictating what was the Norm
Brick by Brick the ego was taking its shape
only to lengthen the cycle of escape.
Slowly it fooled the upper convolutions
towards a civil war which had no solution
Oblivious of it I was paying the cost
which they say is called Paradise Lost.
I was getting buttermilk for the cream
until I woke up to find it was a Midsummer Night’s Dream.
It kicks off the real trail
to find a solace in this gale.
Adorned as they are through these pages
I dare not touch the inanimate wisdom of the sages
Imagine the fate of the auricle drums
Which would be receiving these like bombs
I bow down to all those great masters
Who are the ‪Beacon in these thorny pastures.

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