At the harbour’s lantern

Bodies & Faces 13 Scan (3)

When you struggle with the dragon of a dream 

to catch bus 241 to W-station

it’s a dreary run up a gravel path

where you lose most flashes of your alp.


And in conducive warmth of a waking mind

you pour all over the innocent pages of your

orange journal lemonade to your soul

eye candy for your mind to settle down

pour out creative acts of inspired writings

until you arrive at The Museum’s Harbour

where in midst of emaciated bodies and

green faces your senses intonate a kind of blue.


Where have you been all scorching summers

moody springs and wine-red autumns

the snow-capped winters sugar coated with

peppers of oil and flakes of desert sand?


Commuting to and fro an inner struggle

dragons of some dreams

when one’s conclusive worth has left

like a last breath

and the orange lemonade of nourishment

has been absorbed by haunting bodies

all around you

in midst of emaciated faces

left at the harbour’s lantern.






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