Poetry On Cardinal Health Poem by Boudhayan Mukherjee

He lived 20 years more
Than his father.
His was less time his more
But who sucked up more oxygen
The answer to which is frozen.

He was Rip Van Winkle
Sleeping oh dear 20 years
And woke up to see his white beards

He slept under-soil wet and clayey
His dreams felt nothing of summertime.
The room's walls, his father's portrait
Wife dead or living flesh and all
He was always sleeping Rip Van Winkle
His room got cold igloo-like
But his soul was hot, craving flesh
Eskimo dogs, Antarctic, pegs of rum
A zillion years to survive
The cardinal health of a yogic saint
His was less time his more
Death was yet to come, true but slow
The winds flew away, flowers pollinated
Another lived, the flowing rivers
Ebbs and tides, hormones and blood
Sinus, liver, voice and viva- voce
Kept his days under-soil alone...