Edina-17 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

Conscience, a faulting flies droning around our head,
Love, a heaven being less visualized in candid dreams,
Promises, a lame duck rustling its dry wings on mire,
Life, a compromrising self running on a fixed framed lane.
Late winter left its indelible marks over our nature
And left us in high and dry on the ungentle lap of summer,
Weltering kingfishers raiding the gasping ponds and rivers,
Never dying hope drives these creatures haywire for fishes
And dogged else for a piece of loaf before the impatient clouds
Hurried their feet towards the thristy fields to quench the fissures.
Next is autumn, eldest daughter of winter eve with alluring dews.
None can change or shuffle these wheeling seasons and better to take it as GOD wish,
Nor our aging breath and sniffing wants loitering like old crow,
Flying with stink perfume of stale doings and playing upon hopeless heap,
Ere lost its wings under scathing fire beam failing to read the writing on the wall.
Assume we in a body dancing on the shaking fringe leaf of spring
Or running with insecure rats to drop our first hats before the closed sea same
Or smartly overtaking those robbers for fast reaching the fountain of gold,
Putting all our cardinal goals on back burner to fan the seething fire,
Getting tempest power for melting all the dreams waiting eagerly in fabled cave
Like the flying flakes from a dead man house fire place or like swirling Hades
To carry us fast like a party cake by the unseen butler among jesting maids,
Placing candle cracker and hurling creamy joys to each other in dubious night
And their crunchy hearts making the tables proud like heaped turkey roast
Which they will toast in oblivion on etherial feast and will fret till the dawn,
Where withal out side of painted door we shall be greeted with a fortune rose,
Perpetual, not unsubstantial like those late night white dolls those never were or would have been.