It Rains quietly

It rains quietly, nightlong,
Upon the grey city,
Where headlights wink
Past stoned traffic lights,
Kicking up histories from the Mahananda’s throat,
Rough like art on handmade paper.

Anxiety reigns insomniac eyes
Threading voices round false faces
On which stoic memories trip
Full to the lips with local beer.

Watery feet open the regular ball
On tear-stained asphalt that sparkles,
With little raindrops sliding down asbestos roofs –
their million sighs hushed brutally.

Lullabies whimper,
Assailed by dreams
that wash neon flashes with insolent stares,
From cracked truck mirrors,
Pirouetting past lawless pubs,
While it rains quietly, nightlong.

©Mohana Das
27th July, 2011
(Siliguri)

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11 thoughts on “It Rains quietly

  1. a wonderful display of mood here – i especially felt the sweet sorrow of “tear-stained asphalt that sparkles” and the brutal hushing of a million raindrop sighs..

  2. Mohana, it seems to me that siliguri is in north east India– near Darjeeling? A beautiful evocative poem– my only suggestion is that maybe the “who” in the last stanza should be “that.” K.

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