#pune
#***Cool monsoon breeze sway the trees
Cascading rills , meadows
The Valley and Scenic hills
Colour green rich in hue
Breathtaking the view
The rain pours and rushes down
On the windscreen and sunroof
A sweet melodic sound it makes
Like an Artist, paints in gentle slopes
Dark clouds in daytime , stark
Makes the Sun shiver in cold
The bridge ahead ,century old
Winding road and steep slopes
Passing through the illuminated tunnels
Old melodies played on the radio
The journey ahead ,we steer
The ebullient nature brings cheer***#
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 6:45 AM UTC
***People coming
out of their nest,
Few sundays
marked as fest!
Let's go cycling
or just walk,
Everywhere
people flock!
Kids are playing,
elders relaxing,
Drawing, dance,
or sketching !
Traffic absent,
roads are our own,
Yoga, zumba,
fitness zone!
Football, badminton,
Karaoke,
Sit or lie down
on the road, it's ok!
Move and groove
on favourite song,
Dance on the road,
it's not wrong!
All are happy
it's a good treat,
Come and join
on happy street!***
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
They say it's cliché, writing
a poem about being alone on your birthday.
Cause how could you be alone, with the not-so-faux paradise of the gently swaying lush greenery that sprouts tweety-bird yellow over your head,
complete, with the insistent ca-caw of the Red-throated beak that doesn't let you sleep on the anniversary of your birth.
How could you be alone with the contrast beneath, the contest of of somnabulism between the rickshaw and the great grey suzuki, that perfectly encompasses the colour of Europe.
The barking stray dogs in the Pune streets, the rustle of the parakeet palms in the monsoon breeze.
You're stuck in a shell of unending continuity, howling canines and Hindi beats, honking cars and the buzz of your mind.
alone. and old.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC