Trees of The City Park

C P Aboobaker

    The cold dawns of winter
    Wrapped themselves
    On the trees of the city park

    The morning walkers
    Created spiral circles
    Peacock feathers
    With their wide open eyes
    Shone in lustrous circles

    In the inkpot of poetry
    Rose a c minor from scale of octave;
    In the wild forest
    Peacocks, stags and reeds;
    Go ahead,
    Before the untamed, wild elephants
    Come to cross the road,
    Go forward.

    Royal courts remain in wait for you,
    Life and drowsiness are creeping
    Through the way faring towns.
    Bullocks are tormenting water and mud
    In paddy fields.
    Sunflower blossoms,
    Thick breasts of plateaus
    Secrete sorrows;
    Drown not in them, Go forward.

    Winter is a mere beginning,
    Not an end.
    Beginning of a revolution,
    An epoch, a history,
    And an end.

    The secretions of the medicinal plants
    Destroyed in the war marches
    Come to you along the mountain slopes
    Oh, ocean, to you.

    Seasons creep again,
    In the end winter raise its hoods
    On the Christmas trees;
    Again trees of the city park.

    

C P Aboobaker - C.P. ABOOBACKER, editor of thanalonline, belongs to Calicut in Kerala. His interests include writing, publishing poems, essays, and many more literary things. Latest writing is about Channels and Globalizations. He is a retired professor of history.

    e-mail: cpaboobacker@gmail.com
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