Storm On The Milieu

Tired wiles and their captive breaths scuttling Strawn upon the faces of fear on the hinge With the fear of phoenix lest be not haunted in When their bloods would turn pale and piffled When my eyes in pity move across caravans Slovene and cloggy while slummed up Being lodged against the ensuing hurricane Over the genes and cells in unfazed clones. Their hopes and despairs stocked in silence My feeling innate slavering pray upon God And the doctors for their smiles graceful Over the golden voices be again splurged on. Oh the doctors let their lives be cherished Once stuck blissful upon their mother’s dream Be heard once again on this dust and dawn Like the morning mists over cuckoo’s song. Where upon I wait and watch wistfully To those ill-fated tones slugged upon the extended arms of milieu unacknowledged among the restless crowds miffed in corridor Dr. subhendu kar