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I called the lone parrot passing over my head

from the blue
i won't fly to you

it said

forgot the love i gave?

but you made me your slave
to repeat your chosen line
to voice your chosen tune
my life was not mine

so from the blue
i won't ever fly to you


she affirms the parrot escaped

but i know one dull afternoon in March
she let the bird fly away
being too weary of the chosen line.
Every bad has some good in it
like silver line round the cloud
a bad isn't bad every bit
has something to make feel proud.

One night on a rainy day
out on my aimless roam
saw a koi that lost its way
caught it and brought it home.

In a bucket it lived two years
no way I would ever regret that
had I on that day chosen to stay clear
it would have been taken by a cat.

Once she bought a bird cheap
back home we soon found out
surely it wasn't a prized keep
was lame in one leg no doubt.

But be sure we chose not at all a wrong
the foot though not cured healed a lot
the budgie would not have lasted long
had its lameness prevented to be bought.
A friend is a safe shoulder
to rest your head on
an assurance a sweet reminder
you are not alone.

A friend is a hand to hold
on stormy seas a guide
a commitment writ in bold
to be ever on your side.

A friend is a treasure store
a precious find to keep
forever ready on your shore
with his sparkling ship.

Friendship is the greatest need
to lift the spirit high
and who for that would sow the seed
if not you and I.
Happy Friendship Day to all the poets of HP.
she dries her hair in sun
in red frock windborne high
dreaming there's one
one day would pass her by

enwrapping in heat
sun licks her oily skin
flows down her lithe feet
craves one peep deep within

tickles her wind's mischief
its murmurs's caress
titillates her like a leaf
paints a rose on face

with her i can spin
yearns in my core
she's sweet sixteen
i'm two scores more
I was seeing many girls
when she stormed into my life
broke my run with her resolve
to find her place as wife.

I was seeing many girls
when she came reined me in
halted me with all her force
determined to win.

I was seeing many girls
my dream was up to stars
when she arrived fully knowing
this man was soon to be hers.

I was seeing many girls
none of them could be wife
she knew it when she came
I would stick on her for life.
For her
he was always the man
on the other side of the table.

He was fond of it that way
so he could see her face
read the shades and lights
crack jokes through the grim times
when on the table was little
brimmed plenty in their hearts
and her tears when flowed
were not of unfulfilled needs
but a happiness she couldn’t grasp.

She doesn’t know
what she misses is love
or a mere habit.

She only knows
food doesn’t taste the same
without the man
on the other side of the table.
winter chills my bones
fiercer every season

her warmth i seek
with the prayer

O God, let her grow not older

When i snuggle into her
hear her lips' quiver

..........let him grow not older
 Apr 2017 Divya Kaushik
Polar
In a time of deep uncertainty

with my NuBlaccsoUl in ruins.

The kingfisher Ja bade me follow Creepstar

To the mystical place

In search of grace,

beyond sheer Pradip mountains

Where the clear crisp ink of fountain flows.

Here the saints of Ignatius

stop to quench their thirst.

The journey held danger

when I came upon a stranger

I became enchanted by the spells

of a mischievic Pixievic.

Spell bound I watched entranced

  the sheer dexterity of the Busbar dancer

Whereupon My poor dark soul

fell deep in a hole.

I was taken through the worst by Steven Langhorst

To arrive safely at the hallowed grounds of Newvango

Where now I see

the Paradise in me.
There are 11 excellent HP poets within this verse I hope you and they like it.
Here the pines blush
in the cloud's embrace
the sky comes low
falls for earth's face

the winds kiss
long lines of wood
fog weaves dense
peace of solitude

Here the curves
meanders blind
on magical turns
stumbles mind

all inner demons
the high lands slay
on angel's wings
you fall love's prey.
I love you, Bhutan.
If you're ever on the riverside
where the sun beats your head
you would see the old man
selling hats of palm leaf
but you care not to notice him
having already smelled the sea
and too keen to cross the river
travel southward on the island
till the saline wind scalds your eyes
your skins itch to jump into the waves
yet the man with the palm leaf hats
would not cease to tell you
how burning would be the sun on the sands
and so badly you need to protect the head
by parting bucks that mean nothing to you
but a world to the mouths he feeds
and before you stamp on him a final no
she has one atop her hair
beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies
her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush
and two born anew lovers
merrily head for the sea
having bought romance
for forty bucks.
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