Seminar When a midnight dog had barked at the dark There came up a word seminar from the night

In a hall of poets chasing truths widely known An electric fan stirring its hot air of repetitions. Supposing the seminar is shifted to a sit-stone Under the tree, with ant-holes brimming with views A passing fantasy from inside a sleeping mind. Here we have a seminar of e-poets with lulu books Behind the window curtains, to bypass brown ants Who vent strong acidic views on our under-legs. We will not miss hot air of higher reaches of hall. A man sits in the back row with a head in hands Dreaming of golden brown lunch with lentil soup . He has no rabid views about making verse blank In the forenoon sessions, after a biscuit break. Just when the speaker comes up with a rare gem The loo at the back beckons the high and the low The lulu poets stand in rows before filling pots. It is in these mini-seminars that inspiration flows.

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful