I Am To Whitish House And Duma Poem by Sk. Nurul Huda

A lazy dream gripped me
As it was a deep and dark night,
The darkness was so devilish even God summoned
His agents who were in duty for twenty four into seven days back.

I in disguise in black and lighting combined
Peeped at coal coated round table, when, in such a
Night, their camera of google earth ceased, with bragging my
Wallet of white peace, Christ, and many photos of their unmasked penny-a-liner.

The air helped me to be brought
To them through the pale gate which was protected
With numberless agents holding cotton and silk of different colours
And shapes when, I found, my one hand was on two eyes and the rest on breast.

Suddenly one discovered me
And dragged me to their big and healthy papa like Boss,
The black tongued but a man of intelligence and importance
Who normally identified me in a wink and uttered, ” O! you Shakespeare come”.

I understood I was a great
Entertainment to them when they began to chuckle and
Laugh. “Recite the great popular speech of Gloucester in Lear”-
The Boss offered me a chance and displayed a sign to a veiled and guised group.

I badly wanted and began,
“As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods. They kill us
For their sports, ” no sooner had I finished than he stood and
Roared: “…..you are to us, we kill you for the trial and test of our worthy weapons”.

The night passed inviting reddish morning,
As the alarm of my mobile notified. Soon, I jerked and examined;
Yes! I am still alive……….....................................
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