Gloomy Sunday Poem by ANSHUMAN ACHARYA

Day broke through the window,
mind ceased to play…
awakened to an abominable lull across a tyndalled glow,
Its yet another gloomy Sunday;

Crisp crunches shattered the pretend silence,
as I ruffled through the dailies in mock pursuit…
the voices cried foul atop the cerebral fence
only to crash against stoic walls of mute;

Life like water stank in stagnance,
through prolonged days of futile pray…
picked up the smithereens of my fantasies of chance,
on yet another gloomy Sunday…

Coercing belief and myriad delusion,
I pause in languid leer… in almost frivolous play…
the shadows shrunk into oblivion,
I saw the mighty sun put to slay;

A trail of fervour pranced across the crimson sky,
chasing the golden carpet…
deftly swept under was the sea of cry,
as the saviours blew the trumpet;

now gone is the voice,
halted has the pursuit…the stench now a feeble force…
the reluctant walls once mute,
offer a maze of doors;

life like water now sprouts from a crevice,
in jubilant display…
it only takes a dream's price,
to rain on a gloomy sunday …