A darkness was erupting like smoke <br />under the bush <br />the chorus of old agile Pravakar’s <br />bent back bone and disc prolapse <br />the tomb; a sylvan historian <br />witnesses all these and a lot more. <br /> <br />Amidst the pandemonium of the parliament <br />and withering manifestoes <br />a flower falls somewhere in Kalahandi <br />dreams slip like handicaps on the way <br />sleep like dried rivers <br />palsaid people crawl for a meal <br />finding no help; Shira commits suicide <br />to live no life.A paralytic Chaitan Khuntia <br />waits for the pension to get love of others. <br /> <br />I still listen to the flute tune <br />sung in the orchard <br />the creepers buzz in them <br />the mango groove tilts abuzz <br />the earth murmurs as a plough man ploughs <br /> the hymn echoes in me <br />live a life worth living.26-12-2010<br /><br />Golaka behari Acharya<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flute-tune/
