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May the walls
surrounding her heart
fall

Until then...

Loneliness
is her only companion

As she pushes
everyone else away
1/18/2015
She is the lady on the road.

She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.

She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.

She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.

She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.

She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.

She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
The women of a country are the colors of your flag.
 Jan 2015 GitacharYa VedaLa
Pax
Truth holds many faces, like how fractured mirror show multiplicity.
© Pax
I say this in a review in WC before:

“I believed that truth varies in the complexity of right and wrong depending on our beliefs, culture & tradition, principles and values. So knowing to find balance between all this, you’ll never get lost upon looking into yourself. Finding the courage and strength within – is acceptance and understanding everything of who you are.”
I know a bad poem when I see it
yet strange enough
never seen or read one,
my tablet refuses me,
my writing hand shakes
incontrovertibly
the dictionary confirms,
proper usage forbids,
the conjunction of the words
bad poem,
t'is a linguistic impossibility

every poem ever writ
resides inside my customized
pantheon,
tho spell it a tad different,
Pantheone

every poet/poem lives forever
in a
pantheon of one
for the courage to expose,
deserves the honor
accorded by their fellow immortal muses
in the glare of space and light
she feels a terrifying fright

but soon her cramped wing
brushing aside the fencing
***** the wind into it

her little breast heartbeat
pumps all blood into vein

so they never hear her tweet again.

she flies not far
when the blaze swoops on her
and night's chill turns her into dust!
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