Lines More Lunatic Than The Sun – 8 Poem by murari sinha

all on a sudden
one day again
i face the isabgool

the own fountain of vraj-kishore
may be, wants to fly away in such a manner
to another afternoon

my tiffin-expenses cann’t discover that valley
till now
from where
it is said
all night-gowns begins

then i’m sitting
with my hands and legs spread
in the sun-light
filled with
the sound of chopping of cabbages

on the flowers of the sun-plant
that are in-between the wife and her mother-in-law
i exercise my intelligence very much

if the question of my security is raised
it is only a ‘for-God’s-sake’-like adjuration

the knot of a white handkerchief is so much heavy
i don’t know earlier
my knowledge of using prosody
getting amalgamated calmly
with the stamen used by the sleep