Sibghatullah Khan Poems
|2.||A Private Feast||3/10/2012|
|3.||Dying Is But Going Off-Line||3/14/2012|
|4.||Thinking Of My Bucket List||3/24/2012|
|5.||On Seeing Daffodils||3/28/2012|
|6.||The Wolf And The Lamb In 2012||4/11/2012|
|9.||Love Plays Its Miracles||9/16/2012|
|12.||Trained To Betray||9/24/2012|
|13.||A Sister's Song||10/9/2012|
|14.||God Makes Good Things||10/11/2012|
|17.||It Was Very Safe But An Unlikely Place||11/14/2014|
|19.||As I Went Sorting Myself Out||3/23/2017|
|21.||Poems Lay Scattered In The City Lanscape||3/23/2017|
|22.||Teaching In The Dark||3/23/2017|
|24.||On Signing Up For A Phd||3/23/2017|
|25.||Just A Sunrise And Those Birds Flying||3/7/2012|
|26.||Time And Life||9/15/2012|
|27.||I Am The Old Man||3/8/2012|
|29.||The First Spring Rain||3/19/2012|
The First Spring Rain
As I sit reading in my room, I hear
the first Spring rain thumping the Earth.
Since I cannot concentrate, I rush
out on my roofed terrace and see
multiple, muscular, liquid verticals
lustily fall on Earth that lies supine
with all its pores agape. Rain drops,
strong and uncouth, ruffle Earth's chest,
and worm into her crevices and hollows.
She swells up and swallows all that comes
from a thundering Sky. We'll soon watch Earth
loosen her large Pelvis for a Glorious Birth.
A Private Feast
I had come back only to fix my ceiling fan
when I saw that grey, ponderous chap
sitting smug and unseen near the tea-whitener can.
He was nibbling at a slice of cinnamon bread
I had saved to eat with marmalade or chicken spread.
Savouring his lunch, he sat kind of unafraid.
For one thing, his reckless aspect
and a royal, full-of-himself way to eat