Late Nights In Summer Poem by Subhojit Kar

Parodylicious nights and limpet days
Don't in any way
Shine my pathways;
So I seek open spaces- -
Fields, grounds, parks, any place
Where I don't have to see faces
Talking only of today and yesterdays
No tomorrows.

No. I don't drown my sorrow
In alcohol pool nor flick it away
In chain-smoking ashes,
The few smoke-rings I throw
Into the night air
They are but tip-of-the-iceberg stuff.

I sit alone
In the dead of night
In the deserted football field
My eyes in vain
Scan the starry skies
My soul rises,
Goes to the edge of heaven,
Then comes back;

I search in vain
For the melting moon,
A moon that would melt
Enchanted by the haunting lilt
Of my dulcet lyre;
My ears strain
To hear the nocturne
Of the whispering willow
But alas! it's all quite futile...

The moon, if she's there at all,
Is a solid piece of silver salver
Ice-cold and gleaming and indifferent;
The willow's there too
In all her resplendent glory
But her majesty and grace
Are in lofty embrace
Of achievers celestially high
No, she whispers no sweet nothings
For me, the loser
But her most ardent admirer.

And the balmy breeze of summer evenings
Seems like the dry sirocco from Sahara.