Night Fly (28th may, 2007.)

In the dirt outside,
In the pond there,
In those tall grasses.
the night scavenger.
In the room,
Like vampire.
the night sucker.
Biting the sleeping child,
Disturbing the sweet dream,
Singing eclectically.
“the night singer”.
Very very wicked,
Injecting malaria.
“the night doctor.”
The night fly,
Very tiny and weak,
Innocently dangerous in dark.
the night witch.
-B. M. Atsen

When Inspiration Does Come

When then the sun asleep,
The heavens turns dark,
In dark – beetles whistle
And the owls hooting.
When then in trees,
The moon peeps within,
The birds keep silent
Gyrating the eyes.
When then on quite roads,
In sway – the breezy air bows,
The starry sky watch
In askance of danger.
When then men asleep,
Heads soaked in dreams,
As dead, but snoring
And eyes squeezed closed.
When then in bed,
Heads reclaim friendship with pillows,
And body with mats
Warmly encloses in blankets.
When then… Shhh!
“Night itself asleep,” they whispered,
What’s happening?
Inspiration hunting a Thinker.
-B. M. Atsen

Today is Yesterday (25th April 2008)

When today was unriped
On yesterday's turfed branch,
Scattered its sepals stood.

Bare petals and ovary
Were ennui even at lunch,
Plodding, trudging, looking waify.

Nuked by nude night noon
Its embrayo throbs at its touch,
And today is yesterday soon.

Baby Today is Yesterday
Young today is today, at such,
Tomorrow is an aged today.

-B.M. Atsen

Old Tomorrow

Wonderful 'morrow,
Old and narrow.
As the next scene,
You can't be seen.
Ages have heard of you,
None ever saw you.
Noone knows your package,
Noone knows your damage.
You are invisibly visible,
You are possibly impossible.
You! the talk of the day,
You! the terror of today.
When men's breathe dries,
Tommorow never dies.

-B.M. Atsen