By Virtue Of Oblivion Poem by Sampreeti Mandal

Jeering sounds of my heart,
Enslaved by the tares of meadow,
Creeping soon too near to my morbid error.

Knowing the offence
Finding another reason of death,
I woke up yesterday
Through my broken glance.

Drooling of ancient night,
Silhouetted by the rainy frescoes,
Invites the shabby mosses to grow
Upon my stony posture,
Playing tambourine through
My drunken dream.

Memories slobber since the night.