The Hummingbird

The golden egg, an Owl put
In the nest of nerd,
Out of which came then
The Hummingbird.

A gemmy nestling saw nerd,
the sooty Raven
He was terribly shocked and
in grief driven.

Aware Peahen asked Raven
Eyes aren wet?
Seethingly he answered her
The little I hate.

The restless little flatters,
As a bee unstable
And hovers above flowers
Which do wobble.

Belated Peahen took Raven
To Peacock White.
The incident she explained,
And story did recite.

Let my wisdom penetrate,
In thy empty brain,
Love begets love; hate hate
Said Whitish sane.

Take care of her, no her liberty,
The little be free.
Wish she pearches on loyalty;
A branch of Tree.

S. Bharat

The Flowers

"How happy and pretty
You look!"
I said to some flowers
And shook.

"Happiest moment in life",
Said the flowers
"When in search of nectar
The bee hovers."

I said, "It's very interested
and swollen,
Has selfish purpose and
Carries pollen."

"You pluck, hand over us
When you meet,
***** down us on floor.
We lie at feet."

"Our friends, our chums
Butterfly and bee!"
Bluntly said the flowers
And rejected me.

S. Bharat

You

I waited
for a long time.
Speak,
My hope will
End.

An SMS
changes clime,
Weak.
When you will
Send?

Nothing
I asked for.
Offer
Some bliss
To me.

I desired
Not a life nor
Glamor.
You, just miss
Me.

Once,
You, become
Plaintive
And express
Heart.

Tell
Felt some
Sensitive
And confess
Part.
 
Let
My heart leap,
Knowing
Your aptitude,
Stance.

 Let
The heart keep
Singing,
And in solitude
Dance.

S. Bharat

The Post

I went to picnic spot and had a lot of fun
With cousin and di
I took some selfies and later on posted
Them on WhatsApp to see
I checked in the morning I got two views,
Thirty two at noon and in the evening added few,
Seventy five by eight and eighty four by nine.
But they were not seen by the best friend of mine.
Why he didn't see? Why he didn't see?
Wasn't he angry with me?
Was he angry? He was angry? Was he?
With me! With me!

S. Bharat

The Roses

O, the Flowers lying
On the bed!
Never blame the Roses
That rise far afield and fade.
For they never lose
Their grace
Like the Flowers wilted
In the vase.

S. Bharat