A Party Of Specials Poem by Pranab K Chakraborty

Last night I dreamt a boulevard
some specials sitting rounded beside a table
bags are stagged just under a huge tree
having their own likings sip after sip

no one on the earth except those
only some silent birds listening the grave voice
specials try to communicate with their turn

smells it high
radiates it high
interacts furiously
whether sanctity of words
should be maintained or not

feeling insulted someone trying to tear own hair
someone holding a knife pointing someone
threatning loudly to withdraw last utterance
someone musically
holding the thread to make it tie

the rain appeared abrupt
the specials chilled their anger
boulevard began to dance with dream
to hold the moments eternal

just a long dark canvas
its center illuminates with colors
specials flying to catch rain-drops
individuals just flowing out from center
and dots of light blistering
all the surroundings of dark