Poem: The Extremes
Igor Mudrov, 'Walking in the Rain' / ego-alterego.com
Again and again
The thousand lips of the rain.
I had not yet learnt the alphabet;
The voice against the parapet
Was the raindrops'; A's drenched the trees,
B's wet the bees;
I shuddered under the frightening
Ampersands of lightning;
Sudden commas of breeze
Paused upon the trees;
With a handkerchief I wiped the railing that day,
Who knew I wiped a sentence away?
So the rain would walk from over the sea,
But me! But me!
I could transcend the alphabet; I know
The jargon of the demons below;
I know French, German, all.
The language of the tall
Negress; in vain
A yellow bike's soused in the rain;
I stretch my hand wrinkled with ink
To feel the mere waters clink;
Then I babble again and again and again,
But the rain! But the rain!
Susmit Panda is a student at Netaji Subhas Engineering College, Kolkata.
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