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c-karan-naiduPoems
every morning deafening our ears to the tick tick clock We wake still wandering in the dreams overnight Cleaning and purging out yesterdays twisted tales We begin a new today yet embracing the glorious Story of our grandma and mellifluous lullaby of the Past NIGHT Ringing are the bells of our doors The van man- so we call him the boogie man of our dreams Somehow manages to find our home and takE us away Some have tears not to go & some joining to be with These brave and tiny comrades Not to forget the audacity of ours while We wave our hands to those who rose us from casket Till the end of time and then …. van man taking a devious U turn Some still crying ,some trying to devour sandwiches Some inconcoction of food and mind and heart That genuinely defines innocence Then finally the squeak of gate that challenges our today That rough building in grey white façade and the nerdy beings We always try to keep them in sidelines All set up nicely to churn out a typical school day if its YET another Soon the dictators take over ,their sharp eyes weeding out The imperfections and anomalies ,Even the overly dressed are ruled out The morning blossoms , like the denizens of a cavalry – daddy’s second wife We make a perfect geometry . Standing in queue wondering what would happen next Ears and minds both listening to the chirping of birds around Nose tasting the delicious breeze of hot noodles from others satchel But our eyes watering and stuck at blabbering of an old fat lady on the platform Our hands made to handcuffed by these megalomaniac And some heads are down and eyes shut.. All waiting for this ******** Elvis to leave the show A loud ring of bell that curtains a mundane beginning Ahead we march with our hands on back to Azkabans Only to be released after “capital punishments” As expected the class is empty inviting us to fill With ruckus and impudence but being innocent at the same time Some gibbering ,some giggling ,some drawing on a million dollar wall All have gathered to make the blasphemous walls and time Sordid tales in the chapters, are beautified with snakes and ladders Lady in white dress in the front page is embellished with the imaginations of a pretty girl Covers in the books are the experimental laboratories to Some Its The last page where we begin reading today Some sees in the magic in Turning the pages in seconds with thumbs And how they see the indents and letters dancing Nothing is real here except the paranoids who are convening the class Rushing to empty the bowels are some, and some plundering others Bread roll Some just talking to selves ,troubling the maids wetting the floor All but none complain.. Such harmony the nature gifts us Waiting for the last Run that ends the cruelty of today Because of which we know what that noon Twelve looks like on the clock All eyes forgetting the day’s animosity finally yearning to be once again In the BoOgie man’S Van that shall drive us Home Back to the Cuddle of Mommies and Daddies We “WERE “ THEIR PRIZED POSSESSION , Aren’t We?
0
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
DENIZENS OF THE BLUE
every morning deafening our ears to the tick tick clock We wake still wandering in the dreams overnight Cleaning and purging out yesterdays twisted tales We begin a new today yet embracing the glorious Story of our grandma and mellifluous lullaby of the Past NIGHT Ringing are the bells of our doors The van man- so we call him the boogie man of our dreams Somehow manages to find our home and takE us away Some have tears not to go & some joining to be with These brave and tiny comrades Not to forget the audacity of ours while We wave our hands to those who rose us from casket Till the end of time and then …. van man taking a devious U turn Some still crying ,some trying to devour sandwiches Some inconcoction of food and mind and heart That genuinely defines innocence Then finally the squeak of gate that challenges our today That rough building in grey white façade and the nerdy beings We always try to keep them in sidelines All set up nicely to churn out a typical school day if its YET another Soon the dictators take over ,their sharp eyes weeding out The imperfections and anomalies ,Even the overly dressed are ruled out The morning blossoms , like the denizens of a cavalry – daddy’s second wife We make a perfect geometry . Standing in queue wondering what would happen next Ears and minds both listening to the chirping of birds around Nose tasting the delicious breeze of hot noodles from others satchel But our eyes watering and stuck at blabbering of an old fat lady on the platform Our hands made to handcuffed by these megalomaniac And some heads are down and eyes shut.. All waiting for this ******** Elvis to leave the show A loud ring of bell that curtains a mundane beginning Ahead we march with our hands on back to Azkabans Only to be released after “capital punishments” As expected the class is empty inviting us to fill With ruckus and impudence but being innocent at the same time Some gibbering ,some giggling ,some drawing on a million dollar wall All have gathered to make the blasphemous walls and time Sordid tales in the chapters, are beautified with snakes and ladders Lady in white dress in the front page is embellished with the imaginations of a pretty girl Covers in the books are the experimental laboratories to Some Its The last page where we begin reading today Some sees in the magic in Turning the pages in seconds with thumbs And how they see the indents and letters dancing Nothing is real here except the paranoids who are convening the class Rushing to empty the bowels are some, and some plundering others Bread roll Some just talking to selves ,troubling the maids wetting the floor All but none complain.. Such harmony the nature gifts us Waiting for the last Run that ends the cruelty of today Because of which we know what that noon Twelve looks like on the clock All eyes forgetting the day’s animosity finally yearning to be once again In the BoOgie man’S Van that shall drive us Home Back to the Cuddle of Mommies and Daddies We “WERE “ THEIR PRIZED POSSESSION , Aren’t We?
c-karan-naidu
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c-karan-naidu
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
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