a poem by Satheesan Rangorath, India - poetry writer, author, poet

The oil lamp is burning,
A golden flame reaching out,
Licking darkness away.
At the tip of the wick, the life
Turning from black to blue thence
To red hot ember, into brilliance.
An aura beams out embracing
The shades of dancing blades of palm leaves,
Attuned with a slow breeze
The world drops down, spiralling, splitting,
Casting waves on the rock. Splashing
Silvery grains from the stars,
The flesh of moon lay scattered on the shore,
The sighs and heaving breasts
Mingle with the snore of bats,
Blooms the night life.

Out from nowhere
The rain moths circle the flame,
Burning the wings away,
Then crawling hopeless as worms.
Somewhere an owl cries in fear, flutters its wings,
Turning the head round
With burning eyes.

Finally he appeared,
Sweating and puffing,
His face covered in saliva,
And smear of lipstick on his face,
Silence of night shattered
By the fall of coconuts.

Yes. The moon takes a dip
In the lake of passion.

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