That Inebriated Fellow Poem by Prafulla Kumar Panda

He moves round the lamppost
like a planet moves round the sun
hesitates to recede from the orbit
though vehicles rush about like meteors
and about to clash

like an actor, he rehearses some dialogue
before the onlookers
who throng at the checkmated traffic
and reposes at intervals
in his thought-chamber like Socrates
to propound some truth
that may thrive as blasphemy before his end
also, he ponders over
how to whip the timid wife
who disobeys and don't earn in a brothel
or, to put off the birth of her maiden child

like a patch of cloud
that appears in summer noon
he runs to glide fast
the lamppost to march past the crowd
nudging the entreaties of hundreds
and before the night congeals
amidst hoots of owls
before the sound of the down shutters
of businessmen echo at a distance
he falls on the ground
incurring awe and wonder
and sleeps to his heart's content.

©Prafulla Panda, India.
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