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A Dark Monsoon

By
He holds his pen, poised, sedulous,
For the tarmac conflict, to strip
His dreams from bloody, circuitous
Biers of thrift; his sweaty grip

Wavering under the red, fermented
Smell of clay - monsoon soaked -
Beneath the gray outside, shirted
With the overwhelming, cloaked

Odour of gutters overflowing -
As with the shreds of limpid sunlight -
In conflict, he senses the burgeoning
Night through his forty-watt sight.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Excellent piece.
I feel the mood with all of my sense. Particularly like "poised, sedulous", "biers of thrift", and ingenious ending "burgeoning night through his forty-watt sight."
Hey drop by for a visit sometime. I miss your insights!(Please note the new blog address.)
2:11 PM
Russell CJ Duffy said…
somehow so "india" soft and sullen and deep.
1:55 PM
Prmod Bafna said…
Beautifully written piece! evocative with a nice hold!! :)
7:35 PM
Sue hardy-Dawson said…
Such rich language I can see it
wonderful
8:49 PM
Russell Ragsdale said…
Very well developed tension. There is a quiet angryness to this, fermenting away in the background. Would you submit this for the poetry carnival? I'd like that. You find the instructions how to do it on my blog.
7:20 PM
Russell CJ Duffy said…
too long away!!!
3:40 PM
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