The threat is imminent.
And gluey.
The constellation knits self
into a web to topple
the ‘Poll star’.
The pattern is palpable,
but the constellation bears no name.
Or far too many.
Who would call the shot?
No one.
Or far too many.
Who would scream the loudest war cry?
Not one.
Or far too many.
The skies are hazy, the billow unsettled.
And yet the bugle triggered.
The sky would soon transform into the chessboard.
The blacks would be brazen for sure,
lined up seemingly accoutered.
But wait.
Who are the pawns by the way?
Or for that matter – the Rooks,
the Knights, the Bishop, the Queen, the King?
Why should they all wear the same garb?
Could it to be to beguile the sky?
Indeed, indeed.
And ahead of the contingent in black
shall lay the vastness of open chessboard
while close it shall towards the whites,
the bastion held by a lone combatant,
the ‘Poll star’.
~Atul Kapoor
Kanpur, India
very nice
Jai hind…. Jai Bharat…. ??
Awesome…
It’s too good….
Too good..
Fabulous
Excellent expression of true sentiments !
Nice poem…..
Expressions excellently expressed????
Its really gud
Very well composed