Treasure Island

Neela Nath


At night, when we
go to sleep, thinking
the darkness alone
walks on its way,
another world awakes.
The owls, bats, and
the jungle-animals
stealthily work
on their own way.
The growing lust
for the demanding-
soul, the undone
tasks of day
open the eyes
of blood-loving
Another pages
of civilized people
start writing stories....
the daylight gets ashamed
to read them.
They are from the
yellow page-stories
stop at third page.

Submitted: Monday, February 25, 2013

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Comments about this poem (Nocturnal...... by Neela Nath )

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  • Thomas A Robinson (2/26/2013 1:39:00 AM)

    They are from the yellow page- stories stop at third page....Ok...I have have no clue what you are talking about here. But this poem causes me to sit listening to the cold February rain at 1: 51 am and ponder much of what it brings up. Such warmth on a cold night was maybe the true purpose of the poem. (Report) Reply

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