The Whisperer Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

‘Yes some thing as that, '
Grumbled the Whisperer
Over head the frowning clouds
Struck seven.

To the last
Continued he
Though through meandering
Morasses and jungle-thick
Trees and wood vast
He had to get past
Now struck nine.

The whining leaves
Regaled a scent
Particular to the owls
The wise owls had
Their appetite
As open as stark caves
And liquid belting coves
‘Yes some thing as that, '
Grumbled the Whisperer.

Fish swam
In the archetypal pond
A dragon by
Lizard like spit out
His forked rose tongue
And
From his nostrils
Smoked
A scent of Orient
Pearls.
‘We are on sea to-day, '
The waters spoke.

Then
Came a garbled pilgrim
Garbed in a multi-colored tunica
He cast around
And held precariously:
Time knelt before him
Bent his head
In submission
Smiled the pilgrim
The garbed pilgrim
The multi-colored pilgrim
‘Yes some thing as that, '
Grumbled the Whisperer
Over head the frowning clouds
Struck eleven.