Telescope
Blue is blending into blue, indigo,
heliotrope; ancient stars are melting
together into the ultimate formless.
A night through this telescope rekindles
hopes to dream more. The ecstatic whisper
of a boy is spreading in the heaven
taking shape, molding into a milky way.
An old owl is hooting about with disturbed
hunger and broken concentration to
nail a few mice of this lonesome attic.
The boy is a stranger, breaking its habit.
The boy is in his way to realize
the way mystery multiplies in night.
In sky. In abstract signs on its canvass.
He clasps his prize, a treasure hunted out of
the attic. Hoots the owl, again. His eye
once more settles on the glass of the telescope.
It might have been of his grandfather's in
his youth. The surreal cry of the sky
travels through the bronze conduit of the
machine....
Time is changing domes of
the soft crystal of sand watch.
© 2008 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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Comments: 48
Blessings and best wishes - S.
The surreal cry of the sky
travels through the bronze conduit of the
machine.... ---- JUST AWESOME! :)
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Good luck!
Tiny speck of sand
Telescoping poetry
Takes us from minute to vast
Thanks for posting in Journey Into Poetry !
I just wanted to stop by since I am finally going through what is now listed as under 3,900 pieces of gather new mail that is sitting in my inbox on here.
With that mentioned I just came across either a mailing from you yourself, or someone else brought this piece to my attention. You or they felt that your creation should be shared with the gather community, which I am very glad that it was passed on to me to view. So I wanted to say Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to publish it here on gather for us to all view. :o)
As well before I leave you I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year... in 2009 :o)