By: Harjeet Singh
“Kid asks what’s night”
For a kid to mark dots.
Relax for tired lamps from day time fatigue.
Someone(slave) waits for ﬁrst light
When he be out of irons.
Courter thinks hard and long on tryst about beloved
A painted woman waits for visitors.
Test takers for morning trial
Severed souls ache for reunion.
Fraught with machinations for someone’s ruination.
A holy person absorbed in Lord’s eulogium
Night dreamers become victim of day dreamers.
A marauder in the quest of break-in
New bride wakens with her other half for few nights,
But he has to stay awake nightly for right smart spell
With his own literary findings.
I marked the warble of a fairy
She made good to meet ere long
And she paid a visit like an airy
I treated the visitant with zest.
Awfully prismatic with feathers
As she was wearing belles-lettres’ crown.
She spread a sharp whistle
So eager were my hands
to compose it in print.
Providing me with naturing (creative) force
She roamed freely in my head
And nudged my old notions and projects
I tried to do her a favor,
But she expressed a refusal with thanks.
Again I asked for meal, coffee and tea
She was already bulky, repellently fat
and unable to nibble worldly food.
She left me with word of honor
Oh ! it was all about ‘Imagination’
In the disguise of fairy.
“Apologies on this orb and in Paradise forever”
Children in a body were gamboling.
So honest-to-God were not in on, what’s going on.
Not sentient of pros and cons were rambling.
Under unlighted trees with singsong tone
Rubbernecked vertically but not horizontal zone
They began to raise stones, so small ﬁsts missing desired aim.
Unwisely a rock ran into hermit’s head, sitting aside lone
Drawn-out meditation was disrupted in fruit gaining game.
Anger rose up right away, to whom hermit was to blame.
Red eyes what with breaking link with God
Who dared to take step, but no reply came.
And pause in breath, as no courage to afford,
Little souls in a blue funk bowed their heads in shame.
Red stamps changed into lividness, as they were tame.
And spoke shrinkingly in unison, ‘now stricken what you would shower
As trees purveyed after clash,’ changed his mind’s frame
‘Anything you can demand, no, no! mere apologies as our dower
Little souls! go now, apologies on this orb and in Paradise forever’.
Harjeet Singh is an Indian English poet and short story writer. He has earned a Master’s degree in English from his district college Hoshiarpur (Punjab). His father Principal “Joginder Singh” was an ardent lover of English language and his guidelines have made him able to grasp some of the fundamentals of this language. His work has appeared in U.S and Indian magazines. He is the denizen of district Hoshiarpur (Punjab).