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๐˜š๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฌ๐˜บ-
๐˜š๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ด ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ J๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜บ,
๐˜›๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ,
๐˜ž๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ข ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ.

*

โ€˜๐˜›๐˜ช๐˜ด 85 ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ป๐˜ฆ,
๐˜ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด.
M๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ˆ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต,
๐˜ˆ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜จ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ.

๐˜๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ถ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ, ๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ,
๐˜๐˜ฏ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ, ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ต.
๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ธ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ,
L๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜บ.
๐˜–, ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ช ๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ฏ-
๐˜๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด, ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜บ, ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฆ,
๐˜Š๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆโ€™๐˜ด ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ.
๐˜•๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ค๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ด, ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ M๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜•๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆโ€™๐˜ด ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด:
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด, ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต
M๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ.

๐˜ˆ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ,
๐˜ˆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฏโ€™๐˜ด ๐˜จ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ-
๐˜ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ, โ€œ๐˜–, ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜บ?โ€
Up in a tree hath a nest,
Where three little eggs lay at rest.
While mama bird is away,
The tree stands still with eggs that lay.
Up in a tree an egg hath hatched,
And then the second, and then the last.
While mama bird is on a food hunt,
The birds flap their wings and they all jump.
Up in a tree hath a nest,
But down on the ground, three little birds lay at rest.
โ€œUp in a Treeโ€ is a stanza from my poem โ€œThe Curseโ€ that was published in my book of short stories and poetry entitled โ€œUnfortunate Short Storiesโ€. It will be featured in my soon-to-be released chapbook, "Hark!"
I am born.
I conquer.
I am hated.
I am murdered.
The lack of detail invites readers to project their own interpretations, making it a potent piece for performance or thematic expansion. Enjoy "THE KING" and comment your understanding of the piece. <3 KAD
They hated the snow she provided them
So they can build their snowmen.
They angered her, so she froze them in,
And they wished and prayed for the sun again.

She brought them light and butterflies
To hush their mouths and halt their cries.
They asked for roses, beets, and tangerines.
She cried to grow their floral dreams.

Her tears halted their outside time,
So they begged and asked for more sunlight.
She stopped her tears and obeyed their request,
And brought bees, fireflies, and sweat.

The flowers she brought gave them flus.
The bees she gave stung them blue.
The sun scorched and burned their skin,
So they begged and begged for the cold again.

She blew wind to cool them off.
She showed colors of brown and apricot.
She left leaves and pinecones around their house,
But they raked them up and threw them out.

They angered her, so she froze them in,
With hopes to never see them again!
She did everything they requested,
But they hated her no matter what she did.
Throwaway poem from my collection, "Nature, She Wrote"
Isnโ€™t she lovely when she sighs in relief
And her breath twists and twirls the leaves?
After they burned her forest and left her in grief,
Mother Nature can finally breathe.
Throwaway poem from my collection "Nature, She Wrote"
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