Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 4, 2015





Thunder is stolen tonight after its initial rumble
By lips of petals trembling in vacant ecstasy
Madly in quest of words that can declare love
For Lightning that swiftly but sweetly burns ,
Bodies tremble in a terrible epilepsy
And mind seems befuddled
By clouds’ frequent twists and turns;

Petals shiver like excited wings of a mid Spring wind
Desirous of catching fire from sudden Baishakhi rain
To burn my aching body again and again
With flame of enlightenment envisioned in a sacred dawn
In my little lit up cosy love-struck lane
Where you try to pluck luminous hours
From my mind’s sweet but cyclone ravaged plant
In tune with birds’ pious morning chant.

Hailstones in a riot rattle on leaves and blooms of trees
Making headlines in morning newspapers ,
Rapt in their attention battered flowers look on
Empathizing with me and my sympathetic lane
Sweetening the lone hours of my inevitable pain .


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