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by Rajani Kanth

I rant of a riven, alien shore
Reft in recall, even more
Mocked, reviled, door to door:
Drowned in what has gone before:
There’s mottled shade in every spring
A gentle peal in every ring
A sign, in deep, in everything
That , soft, does to its mentor cling
Beswept, betrayed, in storm and stone
Filletted, flayed, bereft, alone
With no native thought to call one’s own
Nor holy rood to call it home
No music may ever linger here
No blooms of breaking day appear
No canticles to sweet endear
save abstinence and fretful fear
Earth quakes in garn’red opulence
Life numbs in lazy indolence
Skies smile in fulsome innocence –
Even as the passing rites commence
the vampire fiend of peckish time
redacts this fav’red, flaunting rhyme
in residue of its grot and grime
languish all idylls, once sublime
prodigal in waste does lie
earthly beauty in free supply
where the heart be not dearly fond –
all canting joys does it decry
the great aurora boreole
cannot make the night sky whole
drapes all dreams in diablerie
staggers the wilting soul
where is the vaunted , idle ease
bards of civilization commend?
here can be no armistice
where the battles never end
raw dust in an urn, our Destiny
yet one touch betokens love
I cling to where pulsing flesh abounds –
let gods keep the heavens above
in hemlock steeps my flavored grape
the fevered asp is at my breast
Tomorrow, I know not what portends –
But tonite, will I have rest
Twixt hemlock and this clinging asp:
Perhaps there can be rest?


[©R.Kanth 2018]

Professor Rajani Kanth is the Author of Coda, and Expiations, and
Trustee; World Peace Congress

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