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 Jul 2014 Megha Agarwalla
Tryst
Dear Sir, I wish to lodge a strong protest
Against the upkeep of our college grounds;
This afternoon, my body was at rest
Beneath a shady tree, admiring sounds
Of blue birds calling one another.  How
They sing their love of England's summer, joy
Effusing from their whistled tune; yet now
I fancy that their song is but a ploy
To captivate a poor soul such as I,
Who seeks to find solace from lectured tomes
And so reclines to watch the clouds float by.
Beneath the trees these blue birds call their homes,
        My head was bruised by fruit they dropped on me!
        I trust you understand the gravity?
Every inch of my enthusiasm
Seemed to bifurcate into the hypnotic chasms
Considering it to be a cynical manipulation
Made the situation even worse
Every soul around exalted their emotions
And I stood in the corner
Behind a pillar of dramatic fluctuations
Mediocre skills
High hopes
Delusional beliefs
Every thought in my mind seemed to jeopardise my future
All the hypocrites and their sanctimonious talks now were unraveled
I wondered why my ingenuity was being tested
I died wondering why the chaos in my mind was stopping me from living.
where have all the flowers gone

to adorn the graves of warriors gone

where have all the flowers gone

in the lonesome valley to be along

where have all the flowers gone

in heaven forever young never torn

Where have all the flowers gone

to the polluted land of ours to mourn

where have all the flowers gone

To the lost love to mourn

where have all the flowers gone
Her mother told her 

She was as beautiful as the winter snow

But 
All this while 

She knew

It wouldn’t snow in winter

It doesn’t snow in that part of the world

But her love

Let her remain 

Consciously oblivious 

She didn’t want her mother 
To feel

Insecure because of blindness.

— The End —