False Shows Poem by Rites Ghosh

Monsoon clouds are now rising vision.
its fantastic is piled up in disharmony,

the far-off towers and porches
hold their highest architectural horsees-

on the solid granite
one made their contmplative designs.

The monsoon clouds overarch
with its magnificent furies

signalling beastly potential to let loose,
to kick th' vacant brain of rugged city.

Our forlorn city loses last metaphors of life
behind assumed blackness gathered uppn sky.

Oh! if the horses were not dead,
or the scenic clouds never looked unsubstantial.