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1.1k · Oct 2011
SOLITUDE OF THE POET
K Balachandran Oct 2011
A solitary hunter
am I, let me confess,
with a  heart,
pining for  visions of beauty,
fleeting through this ethereal haze.
In my hunting trips I don't ever ****
only cajole
luminous words
that entice me
or striking images
to surrender, that would
become a rapture timeless.
A lonely hunter am I
who goes deep
in to the tangled jungle
of time, unarmed,
walks backwards
and forward
levitates upwards
and some times
zoom down
to capture the moments
defying gravity.
You call me poet,
in fact ,
I am an oracle
speaking in  the syllables
of thunder,
from  the subconscious
for all to hear
prompted by a possession   mysterious
I  still couldn't  discern what.
1.1k · May 2016
Paradox {Haiku}
K Balachandran May 2016
A scowling scare crow,
Weather beaten one, bleached clean.
Stoops down as if it's scared.
K Balachandran Nov 2013
Wild profusion of mad red 'flame of the forest' flowers,
a roaring fire they create, which the sun stokes further
a white stork, tired after a lonely flight, crossing  long distances
dive in to that pyre; unawares or fulfilling a suicidal desire?
1.1k · Jan 2013
A sad, winter's love tale
K Balachandran Jan 2013
A girl cloud, atop a green hill
longed for  boy moon eyeing at her.
Wily winter fog hid her within his grey blanket.
Melancholy moon's feeble light, in vein still searches for her.
1.1k · Sep 2012
Was it just a make believe?
K Balachandran Sep 2012
The whirlwind dance of your love drunk words,
soft whispers in my frenzied dreams,
a palpitating heart, blurred eye sight,
just a mirage, was it? a mere make believe?

I wandered on the beach, brooding and desolate,
waves didn't dance, in anguish crashed against the shore,
melancholy dusk, whimpered in languid wind's voice,
*I winged back, a lone bird, lost the way to its love...
1.0k · Feb 2013
Dreaming immortality's home.
K Balachandran Feb 2013
She was night,
in all her charms.
I was a dream,
embraced by immortality's arms.
Ours was a love making,
long and unabashed,
in total abandon.
We forgot who we were,
freed from all limitations,
the play continued, how long,
we have no recollection, whatsoever.
Time lost all meaning,
the stars showered like jewels,
when the night had ******.
The dream took a life,
got painted in reality's *****.
Reality and dream
were like an oyster and its pearl;
**ecstasy was our name
for the rest of
timeless time.
1.0k · Jan 2014
Awekening
K Balachandran Jan 2014
A forest fallen flat
in to the water bed,
of this extended lake
gives him a feeling of surreal
and yes, an immense sense of peace.

he sits there alone, quietly
peering at his cold narcissistic face
now, broken in to pieces by fish
curious to look at his face
by swimming around his reflected one.

After many cold winters
when at last one finds out
that mere reflections all are,
the face thought to be real,
and the reflection on water plane,
on the pool waters of time
that drains little by little,
liberation wings in like
a white dove, the harbinger
of the last good news.

The cuckoo
in the bamboo grove,
swaying from one side to the other
as the bamboo moves in the hands of wind,
on the clod water sheet, sings without sound,
the forest that grunts
like a wounded animal,
observes grave silence
in the other reality plane-
water spreads.
He watches in alert silence
a recluse in parallel realities
           he has awakened.
K Balachandran Sep 2012
The panther is in love with me, I can tell,
her eyes gleam, whenever I am near,
Her problem was this,"Are you an animal?"
"truly my love" I said, "I only wear a man's dress"
cougar, puma, leopard, black panther...you can imagine all these and more..
1.0k · Aug 2016
The conundrum of the ship
K Balachandran Aug 2016
The only ship in the angle of my vision
seems to be still, as if cleverly painted above
the placid waves, that reject all agitations
near the shore I stand, a conspiracy perhaps!

No way I can tell if the ship moves away
or impatiently steers towards the port's embrace;
perhaps  in keeping my spirit to espouse ambiguity.

Just a morning jogger from a planet far,
I am nobody to judge, still I am curious-
that vessel with an  uncertain, navigational plan,
Isn't it me?Am I reaching anywhere, tell me.

I can see, none seems to expect it to come in
or go away and hide itself as a dot in distant horizon,
none who did bid it farewell, too is not to be seen.
Where have all gone, leaving no clue behind,
making it difficult for  one to create dreams.
How  so quickly time did erase all evidences,
which rendered goings and comings insignificant!

Is that static state, an illusion, a metaphor for life?
None is here to answer such questions as the world
has gone too far from there, to a space uncertain.

The port is busy as usual, any day it could be.
I wait for something to happen, will the ship
come to life astonishing me and move again?
I listen, the wind that blows from far horizon,
tells salty tales, tries in vain, again and again,
to recite the fish songs from deep sea blue down.
K Balachandran Mar 2015
A poet in the east, he lived the life of a king,

he was famed to have been gurgling his throat

with nothing but vintage quality sparkling wine,

when he finally put his prolific pen down

all his riches found was poetry, one full page long,

all that met the eyes earlier were merely fluff and puff,

never did he bare his heart, anywhere  other than in poems

things of beauty, he gathered from life were invaluable, rare

all of it had filled just one full page, nothing more!
1.0k · Nov 2018
Erotic night wave
K Balachandran Nov 2018
Moon’s suggestive gleam,
Night taut with ****** tics;
Nature’s alert peaks!
K Balachandran May 2012
Can't blame Munch,
for making agony so much  euphoric
with 'the scream' ;
*with appropriate excuse, dejection too would taste good!
The pastel version(there are four in all) of Edvard Munches celebrated composition "The Scream" sold at Sotheby's auction last week in NewYork for $120 million. This Norwegian artist's depiction of human agony creates such euphoria, that the price spirals up..up every time it is auctioned..
K Balachandran Apr 2013
The brightest night
in my life was there in your eyes,
I remember nothing else,
blissful oblivion, noisy surrender.
1.0k · Feb 2017
The rain tune stands alone
K Balachandran Feb 2017
To comfort me the rain hums a tune
as if she could sense I was feeling down
I get buoyant by the soothing tone,
pick up the strands that once were broken

Drenched woods after the rain has gone,
with the wind,repeat it, but sounds like a moan,
it takes  much subtlety, to empathize, I learn
to evoke sublime feelings that touch and lift the soul.
1.0k · Dec 2011
everyday sensual story
K Balachandran Dec 2011
Naked
Sun,
Unclothed
Earth,
Morning union
Decides the rest.
1.0k · Dec 2011
dangerous love
K Balachandran Dec 2011
lovers embrace
behind tall grass;
just across,
tigress intently watch.
1.0k · Sep 2013
On a Rare Flower, lost
K Balachandran Sep 2013
Your soulful look has volums to tell
brings me joy unlimited, unreasonable
you are that rare flower, I used to dream
even in my waking hours, not knowing
you won't be mine ever.

Still you make me yell, "Life is full of surprises"
and hug the person standing next,
just to transmit the happiness you gifted,
all the while knowing it won't last.

That sparkle in your eyes, tells about a  verve rare,
the zest for life, love for happenstance,
gentle wind and gushing water remands you,
one look at you fills the heart with a new spirit,

I can't stop you, a mountain river you are,
I don't have any questions, we are strangers still,
never will we walk hand in hand, hearts brimming with a song,
you are the girl, someone is waiting for,
how happy am I ! a breeze you were, that  blew my way, for nothing.

Spread your spirit, that inspires all,
wipe the tears, rejoice, you have a heart,
you won'tire, if you are needed there
you as a human being, would never fall.
K Balachandran Aug 2017
I am that fragrant thought, still alive,
as a seed,one of nature's wonder
that sprout in a season not expected,
in your mind in a blue moon night.
Though we loved and lost without
knowing reasons and sans any regret,
We still would be probing for errors,
in the book of accounts love never can keep.

You were left alone for long, yet moved
by love that caressed your heart
with such intensity only once, that
made possible many flights together
with moon beams as wings of fantasy.
But that was before the tsunami hit,
just a memory now,but would last long!

Now, here the magic happens again,
as musky fragrance hovered
in the west wind,stirring passions,
I can't understand the dynamics of this:
somehow a beam of light hit,
my being telling me about,
your plight in a flash and
our hearts melted together,beating
making shrink the distance between us!
We touched each other's heart,felt
love traveling at the  speed of light.
The world suddenly looks a place brighter,
What if we wouldn't meet even once, hereafter.
1.0k · Mar 2013
beware of the other woman
K Balachandran Mar 2013
He owes his success to a woman,
his wife, sagacious, sweet.
For all his failures
blame his concubine, who else?
Behind every successful man, there is a woman, it is said.So the poor other woman has her share!
K Balachandran Jan 2012
Like those green hills
in an undaunted meditative silence
in front of the house
i was brought up

               my secrets are pretty open,

i am still a gun with full of bullets
if i spill the beans
i'll be compromised, some one pointed out
so what?

yes, i did fornicate a bit
most unforgettable one
was with an intellectual type
under the 'wisdom tree'
highlighted as a tourist attraction
in the municipal park,
on a full moon day,
that was a condition she put,
i found  no problem to agree.

this was the time when we were wild
smoked joints, did theater,
and went about aimlessly
but read a lot, as if our lives
would come to a grinding
halt the very next day;
so we had to finish all that.
it was as if we are mad.

Oh! not to forget the Ashram
over looking a lake
where one learned few things
on life and other matters of interest,
how can i forget the fiery  poet,
who got there to get
enlightened if possible in a week
we slept and created a lovely scandal
(you should forgive me for all that,
quite coincidental, not at all intentional)
noted in my diary thus--
'poets are no less hot than other mortals'

Once in drunken stupor
i went to swim in the lake across the Ashram
with full of crocodiles that relished
eating people's limbs
not all, but one at a time,
the girl who found me floating
inviting attention of crocs
dragged me  out, took me to her room
in the Ashram, and at that night
she said:"how romantic!
let's go to bed together
your punch drunk meat
would have been eaten
by crocs by now..so celebrate"
she was so much better than crocodiles
in heat, left me in a state of dazzle
Yes now it can be told; one of my secrets is this
I believe in eclectic wisdom,
as ephemeral life has  
wisdom alone offers salvation.

i have no great secrets,
no Swiss bank accounts,
affairs with  enchanting courtesans
in any Maharaja's court.
The last and only Maharaja i met face to face
had retired long back
and during my interview with him
addressed me "Sir"
how could one tell a Maharaja
though he is a paper tiger that
one is averse to colonial manners!

                                        About certain secrets to be unearthed:
                                         I will recount this in a later date.
K Balachandran Oct 2012
Acrobatics of mating bats,
gaping hopelessness,
of half eaten fruits,
restlessness of chirping
birds of different feathers,
ants; red, black, brown
countless of them
in a state of perpetual motion,
apparently for no reason,
up and down, and
on to the branches, leaves;
squirrels, like ringing bells
complaining about
the dominance of the birds-
occupying the branches,
a golden serpent, slithering
through the scaly dark  trunk
to steal eggs kept hidden
in the motherly warmth of nests,
huge green cover of leaves,
thinking itself as an umbrella,
shielding, the sky's eyes
and rain's intrusive wishes,

*but
the tree,
a universe, where
desires, wishes and frustrations
act out  their own plays,
is oblivious
of everything,
and meditates
on the sun.
K Balachandran Aug 2012
At Gare du Nord, I was all at sea,
An anglophone drop, in a French sea, oui,
"Je parle anglais" was the last straw to hold on,
*How would I navigate to place  D'italie?
From Gare du Nord, railway station, Paris, to PlaceD'italie, my destination,with only the phrase "I know English"(meaning 'Sorry no French") to communicate and seek  help, it was really  an expedition proving  the effectiveness of sign language!
K Balachandran Mar 2012
Two  kites, in mid flight,
stray, get entangled;
the pair flying kites , melt in a kiss
oblivious of the world
.
1.0k · Jul 2015
Seventh Wind
K Balachandran Jul 2015
They would sneak out quietly in dark nights,
walk to the desolate beach slowly hand in hand,
and lie supine on damp white sand soaked in star light,
shedding from light years afar,counting stars as if it's their job,
wasn't that an esoteric ritual, prelude to a cosmic trance?

Love gifted a stole to keep them warm,
to her it was him and to him it was only her all along,
and on the sand bed in such nights they got to know secrets,
from the  galaxies,together they broke taboos of every imaginable kind.

They would wait for the seventh wave from the ocean's mind,
that was the moment they knew each other intimately than ever.
the seventh wave was a gift of pearls from the depth of unknown,
and the sharks were on the shores roaming alive like in fairy tales.

They kept awake for the seventh wind, that did blow promises,
on a space above, they hovered standing naked chest against breast,
the seventh wind told them many things, in to it's essence they delved,
wind, water, fire within, space in between,earth mother holds together,
an awareness , they roamed around the galaxies,wasn't it wonder itself?
K Balachandran Nov 2011
Shy white cloud
                inches forward,
                                        crescent moon
                                                            ­   is all alone.
K Balachandran Jul 2013
Deep in the beehive of my brain,
an invisible queen bee* lives and rules.
Just a drop of honey from her honeycomb,
can bring the salvation I yen for all along.
*Pineal gland also known as "the third eye" is a small(5-8mm, the size ofa grain of  rice)endocrine gland in the vertebrate brain, to which is attributed  mystical awakening or enlightenment,clairvoyant perception and higher state of consciousness.
1.0k · Mar 2012
Reverse engineering: a dream
K Balachandran Mar 2012
I dreamt that
I am the fearless mouse,
That  caught an arrogant cat,
*And taught it to appreciate, peaceful co-existence.
K Balachandran Nov 2014
Intense moments of passion made her uncontrollably weep.
But each drop of tear, rolling down her cheeks tasted so sweet.
Astonished, she looked at him and found him knowingly smile.
Yet another miracle of love, least expected, she was overwhelmed!
1.0k · Sep 2014
A journey towards Noumenon*
K Balachandran Sep 2014
Our destination we knew beforehand

we did set sail to distant galaxies, that create

rainbows out of light years and star dust.

We forgot the meaning of the word 'return'

never imagined a coming back, ever

the journey of no return  every moment,was
rich

only we were there,needless to think

about the beginning or any one other than

us

we didn't bother about the moment of culmination,

the phenomenal world, after all is not ours
*Noumenon--An object or event discerned without the help of senses.
K Balachandran May 2013
Blue peafowl, your hundred amazing eyes, lured me for ever,
your love has a magnificence, I've never experienced before,
tender yet ardent, you ecstatically coo aloud, when we touch the apex,
legs firmly on earth, you dance  with your crowned head touching clouds.
1.0k · Apr 2013
For them sin is fun
K Balachandran Apr 2013
They found sin,
an alluring fruit,
in the forest of the collective night
of their callous hearts.
They avariciously ate it,
though digesting its toxicity wasn't possible.
Its seeds were enthusiastically distributed,
among other creatures of the dark.
Planting seeds of sin,
they thought was good fun,
their technique of brainwashing
was perfect, a lethal gleaming weapon.
The fruits it bore were
what none expected,
explosions shaking public places,
an efflorescence of gun culture,
bane of our times and for all the days to come.
The genie refuses to go back to the bottle,
once again, though few still try.
The lovers of sin bragged ,
about biting the bullet,
if it comes to that,
won't run.
Short sighted,
chafed were their words and deeds,
at last when reality came to visit,
each one bit the dust.
1.0k · Aug 2012
Astounding magnetic property
K Balachandran Aug 2012
Isn't she such a magnet irresistible?
does she feel that too, each of us attract the other?*
which divine hand intervenes to vaporize,
ego, anger and greed, that blinds?
1.0k · Dec 2012
The conundrum called time.
K Balachandran Dec 2012
Both hands of clocks,
on each passing hour,
clap childishly,
at the hour precise,
thinking, enigmatic time
was caught,
and arrested for ever,
at long last.
                    But  in every chime
we really hear, the gleeful laughter
of elusive time.
1.0k · Aug 2017
erotic arrest
K Balachandran Aug 2017
middle parted hair,
eyes go down to her naval
arrested at cleavage
K Balachandran Aug 2013
Choosing between a witch and a vampire,
should have been a real dilemma, of course,
none among these two did he choose,
but a nun, to explore the path of renunciation**.
1.0k · Nov 2012
The face of truth
K Balachandran Nov 2012
The morning, milky white,
was dripping from sky to earth,
like desert sands, it extends
beyond my mind.
White flows like benediction
of the cosmos, I tell myself,
is it real or the illusion mind creates?
I swim to the depths,
an emerald cave, so familiar
in many lives, comes to sight,
I take the sword kept there
from its sheath, and dive up
cut the chain of illusion with it.
The white blood of silence
gush and spread everywhere,
I gaze at  the face of truth
hidden by golden leaves*
till the moment before.
*"Leaves of gold cover the face of truth. Please remove Oh! ultimate, for me to see the truth of Dharma"
(15th mantra of Ishavasya Upanishad)
K Balachandran Nov 2012
Under the open sky's benevolent eyes,
when everyone in the caravan
was in deep slumber,
                                   his  lonely heart was on fire,
when he felt, someone touching his forehead.
The past he could tell, was catching up with him,
a venerable monk,  a divine presence
with his white, long flowing beard
stood leaning on his long, strong, staff
peering at his face, those eyes, the light of grace,
"Make peace with your past,
make the bats hanging upside down, vanish,
with deep repentance, cleanse your turgid soul,
its in your hands, then see what happens"
rang the Guru's words in his ears.

He rocked all his dark loves to sleep and bid
good bye for ever to his weeping wounds,
Eyes raised skywards, he sought forgiveness
to everyone he did wrong, in silence.
He heard the guru's words repeatedly booming in the wind
"Repent, it would absolve you for ever"
He meditated, till his cloak from black to white transformed.

At the day break, he woke up to a new life,
the ground, was deserted, silence reigned, expectently
No trace of any caravan, did they vanish in to thin air?
The rhythmic pounding of the staff, of the monk,
was it just an illusion of mind, a visitor
at moments of darkness and doubt, bringing light?

To some questions, we don't really expect answers,
the very questions are the answers we look for.

The valley was full of flowers,  and sky
was crowded with robust white clouds, portentous!

**As he was walking down the rocky path,
a woman looked at his face and asked:
"Monk, where did you come from?
aren't you the one they told, would come, no doubt!"
He smiled.Understood.
K Balachandran Aug 2020
"Want to stop the world,
This moment" she whispered
In to my ear, mantra like.
And it did, before I could even
Get astonished  on  what happend.

A sonorous hum, kept ringing
Deep in my being, then in a flash
Was revealed our sublime bonding
With the  eternal;  we are one
And the music of eternity plays in us all.
1.0k · Apr 2014
Silence(5x5)
K Balachandran Apr 2014
Butterfly finds
immortality
a nuisance

Distant star
cries out light

Wizard of words
drinks silence

Confidence is
the God of silence

Sun never craves
for encore
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Every butterfly, knows this in it's inner being
and yet each forgets it, as soon as it starts flying,
the sweet warmth of each flower inviting him,
honey and  nectar abundant in the beginning,
the wind speed  that takes him to the bloom--
such happy things ,soon will become  a dream.
Never forget; the tides will turn.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
lovely weeds, what abundance!
asking to fall in love.
with a smile, i curiously glance.
careful not to get floored.
1.0k · Jan 2019
Inward
K Balachandran Jan 2019
Inwards turns my gaze,
From solitary sun deck;
Find eternal light!
K Balachandran Apr 2016
I talk to the water and the spring, it's deeper source,
without words, it heals me, I receive the benediction,
to clouds and seething sea waves too,I, my eyes speak
transcending mind, I reach out to the gentle forces of nature
send my thoughts to plants and animals, they are very kind.

"Would you keep quiet for a while?"
I hear my request to myself as if I am somebody
different, from what I wish to be.I am astonished
at myself, it's the ability to commune with silence.
I go back to the mind of nature wordless, in meditation
hope that I would be the one I wish, the elders
have told us all that is to be done.Needs to be just the link.

I want to stop my babbling that makes
words lose their, inherent potency
I get this nagging question, repeatedly
do I respect the word, utmost
and be in it's ring of friends and lovers?
the fewer you use words
I feel the word will desire you more
But how do I forge the emotional bond
with each word I woo and make my own?
I seek the answer in 'Aum"

I invoke a word to come out of the beehive
of my buzzing brain, a cosmos,where they
compete with each other to fly out to forests far
in search of flowers secreting honey, dense  with pollen.

I hear the drone of the word, on it's journey
to distant gardens.I acknowledge it's clarity of intentions
purity of singular thought which fills heart with sweetness
the bee, is a 'brahmachari' single minded 'yogi'
after the ultimate meaning;I, wish to  let the word be and with it
Brahmachari-one who takes the path of learning to realize supreme
reality, "brahman"
1.0k · Dec 2016
Black and white-Haiku
K Balachandran Dec 2016
In the paddy field,
I hear a lonely crane cry;
could be ecstasy?
K Balachandran Sep 2015
This precisely is the secret hour, that brings to an end
of the long wait of patient bats, now let them ecstatically mate,
mind, wakes up from stupor,in creative instinct,becomes a ******,
though peering in to own hidden shadows, from a pantomime past.
Silence of many shades reign in the mansion of magic beyond space,
along the labyrinthine inner corridor, lighted seldom or even never.

The dark nimbus clouds above, purge, thunder roars,victorious,
outside the cave rain in torrents lashes, winds whistle like possessed,
heart fills with an urge urgent,words fumble to express with verve,
blind bats, hanging upside down, wake all at once, shaking wings,
they arise creating a cacophony,then the transformation is quick,
what results is a frenzied ****** fight for colored words to mate.

The pairs suited most, in the crowded cave , intuitively selected,
commandeered, brought together, merged perfectly, without effort,
blending with the rare beauty of light filtering in, striking images
of different hues appear on the screen, moving pictures of creation.

Everything is still here except,a fecund sense, awareness in fire,
thoughts are in a churn, turn towards the starlit firmament,
and fertile red earth doused in the scent new rain roused,
blue water expanses, rippling moves as waves after waves
all finally settle, mind's creative pool now, is a placid reservoir.

Astonished he is, by the immortality of words, that acquire
an escape velocity to project, shoot up through the clouds,
it's payload, is carried by a  fuel, alchemy created propellant,
that ensures poetic transcendence,the fused golden words live long.

The creative moments, are pure  wonder, when within the folds
of primordial sound,he waves silk blending it with golden threads,
The poet becomes the word first and the word speaks through  him,
poem is a canal perennial,for the flow of desire, hope and pain concealed deep,all projected by the  mind continuum that never sleeps.
Ever did attempt, to try and  explain how poetic stirrings, begin and ooze, becomes trickle , becomes a flow, gushes out..
K Balachandran Aug 2016
pink pepper berries,
invite to pluck and partake;
at one's peril of course.
Ripe pink peppercorn in very inviting... you'll see it's real color if you try to eat a few berries..
K Balachandran Sep 2012
I am naked, from the soul down
a traveler without a ticket,
to the luminance beyond the galaxies.
I beget love,
seek beauty beyond limits, sing.
let me kiss your heart,
because, i see it responds,
to me in eloquent silence.
*let me be a bard, with magic wings
to reach you, and nestle in your serene heart.
kiss my soul with your words, once
make me immortal.
When you leave this dream for the next, what would you take with you?  Think
K Balachandran Feb 2014
The murmuring grove all of a sudden
falls mute, as they enter
listens to their words, love prompted
in the distinct love dialect.
A red beaked parakeet watches her
without batting an eyelid,
the  ruddy cheeks and ruby lips of the girl,
all aglow as the golden rays of evening sun caresses;
feeling jealous, the parakeet makes a loud racket.
Much of the noises that animals and birds make is in the name of love;humans seems to be the only group that whisper sweet nothings, as they bill and coo.
K Balachandran Jul 2013
Creating a moon, pale, soft and melancholy
with words, bleeding wounds, trembling with pain,
putting it up above the dark clouds, on a lonely sky
and make it reflect in water, turbulent and agitating,
so that you would see my anguished soul in flames,
wasn't easy, it took long sleepless nights and wasted days.
Did you understand this; then what did I get?

Am I a wanderer as they made out, or the opposite, a lonely seeker?
Wasn't I trying to look at life, putting aside all pretensions,
being simple and becoming aware as one,
who has no control over anything, that happens in life
except, knowing myself, to be in touch with things
hidden from us all through the walk,
**over the cantilever bridge we walk on
jutting in to the sea, with only the other end fixed,
as we walk forward to a gap opening to the waves
that roll below, I look above at the galaxies and smile,
I realize, the purpose of this run is to swim,
across the cosmic ocean,  to be one with the limitless.
1.0k · Sep 2018
Rain soaked Muddied lives
K Balachandran Sep 2018
Layers of mud and dirt,
Fill homes water commandeered;
Human lives eclipsed!
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