Tinsel Stream

Shamim Azad

By walking towards the tired road of the Earth

My taste of laugh ended to the nearest

Available turns of rivers of myths

Tearing apart the blanket of mist

Of the jealous woods.

I startled and tripped

On Autumn Crocus of Anguish.

There I went-

In there

My crushed soul went

But no new tears of surprise dropped

Over my freshly grown Viyella of hope.

Walking by the fatigued road of the Earth

Thought-dust covered

My thin shaky hanged arms.

Quiet marks of sleepless nights

Got filled with cups of opium

Transforming my mental ceramics

Into a sparkly tinsel stream.

Brushing past through the passive grass

My breath was coming back

To inhale the lovely smell

Lurking out of my newly wedded book

Restoring complete insanity

To acquire the evaporated

taste of this enduring journey again.

Feb'05, London, UK