In the wrong station
that bleeds away
the railway profits,
on an iron bench
and although its
colourants have been
you can tell it is green,
sits Mr Godot,
and the time frozen in
one John Smith & Sons Midland
grieves for the late sun.
I have a sign breathing his name
in my molten hands
in the mirror-station to his,
and I yawn, it is quite late.
The Behaviour Pattern of The Illusions
Midnight shakes me awake
just before I fall asleep,
and I move the window’s curtain a bit,
see five of our neighbours
sitting in our front yard looking at my house.
I have a gun by my imagination.
I keep it locked in my conscience.
The summer whistles as the dark
reaches the boiling point.
And then, in the same night
I open the curtain with all my might;
my muscles ache and ring;
I find nothing but the darkness outside.
No one faces me when I feel
the strength to face them.
An author and a father, Kushal Poddar, edited a magazine – ‘Words Surfacing’, authored seven volumes including ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’. His works have been translated in ten languages.
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