You Sleep Like a Butterfly : A Poem

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(What is poetry as such? Can anybody define it in no uncertain terms? No, poetry cannot be defined on any decisive level and nobdy can take a chance for that matter. Being on such indecsive propositions, I too roll my senses if I can write a poem with bated breath. To me, poetry is a free flow of words when passios at a deeper emotive level just push and pull you on to a forward journey into the realm of senses that stand to the tests of poetical justice…)

Eyes rolling
On a drop of rain
Like a butterfly
In splendour of colours
Closing its flapping wings
Wide off the petals
Of the blushing rose
All alone fluttering
In lashing colours
Of gray delight

You sleep on the grassy leaves
Eyes rapidly moving in the opening sky
As if to spread your dreams in couplets of twight song
Night has called it a day long before ancient deluge
The white swan swims across the blue heaven
To run errand for the messenger cloud on the long horizon
The cloud will deliver the rains of love to your beloved
It will reap the harvest of heavenly mana for your earthly desire
As you sleep like a butterfly of many splendour colour
You hearken the psalms from the distant thunder
Yet you sing sweet nothings lullaby to the skylark
As if your beloved will come alive to love you in jerking tears
To beat the heat of your lifelong loneliness in lengthening sigh

Eyes roll on
The windy night unfurls
The bell tolls
You do not know for whom
Dream catches fire
To dare the devil of death
Your face lilts in gray delight
There will be waking call
You know how to dare
The face of the daybreak.


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