Later On

Poem By I.P. GOPIKRISHNAN PISHARODY

The dropp of rain,
outdo in to the holes of Guitar
where the stripes befall,
on tenor of libretto of composition;

The world hushed in the frozen rain,
where sky is like golden yellow.
There the bend that
clear the rim of sky.

I play in Guitar; the clouds
move towards the earth.
and create a wall in obverse to me,
where the sound, of Guitar’s boom.

The rain dropp draw slightly,
fallen into my bed.
And it starts on falling
even upon itself.

Comments about Later On

hmm..very deep....got most of it....keep up the gud work buddy! ! ! ...9/10 for this poem..


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