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Miss Saitwal Jul 23
That workaholic lady who's always on call
& keep up with the market cells,
That newly married lady with chunky "red bangles"
talking to her husband with both earphones and blush on.

That man with a big fat stomach filled with his wife's love;
That teen who is on the edge of being deaf
because he can't do without the earphones.

That struggler who always stands at the back door;
That dreamer who's lost looking outside the window;
That person who's scared to get lost so stay active on the maps;
That disturbed mind who is coping up listening to George Michael;
That overworked soul who can crash anywhere.

That lady who choose to sit and freeze to death under a broken A/C unit, rather than stand with a five kilo backpack in a crowded jungle.
That girl who eats like a thief by hiding her food in the bag;
That tall enthusiastic freak who swings
and does gymnastics in a moving bus.

That granny who spot more trends than teens and follows them;
That old man who still can't keep up with the uneven roads
and the confused climate of Bombay.

That teen who lives with/on an Ipod,
instead of the 90s kids who survived on colouring books;
Those kids who believe their job is to fill the voids in the still crowd by surpassing like electrons to the magnetic field.

That man who is inspired by Raju Rastogi from 3 Idiots,
chanting to death and can't stop stressing on his responsibilities;
That entrepreneur with a head held high and red lipstick,
who never believes in a 9 to 5 corporate "mistake",

That blogger who can't think offline and is born to shine on the Gram,
That man who switches from Linkedln to South Indian action movie when the masses exit.
Maegan deme Aug 16
Well I wrote a silly book
And filled it with solemn words.
And put the cantos in.
But wrote them in reverse.
There was a haiku,
I put on some page.
But instead of seven syllables.
I thought it was the seventh page.
Picture poetry is fun
But I couldn't paint, only write.
I put a poem in,
But it's hard to understand,
Cause when I thought I wrote it,
I wrote on my hand.
Its a goofy book of things,
That you never knew could be.
Why don't you come and see
This goofy book of things,
That You never thought should be.
This is kind of what I would think shel sliverstein writes like.
Cné Oct 2017
What would I give for a nook and a book
to cuddle and snuggle and longingly look
the pages unfolding as I listened to
the babbling song of a fast flowing brook.

Oh, if it had pictures, a faraway place,
mysterious villains, a dark alley chase
I’d pick up the phone I’d call in sick
disappear in the mist, leaving no trace.

What would I do to be captured by words
impressed into service by pirates with swords,
adrift without wind, current silently slow
half crazed crew pacing the sun-baked dried boards.

Perhaps of an evening a stroll on the beach
salt, surf, and moonlight on ebony skin
passion full sated on cooling soft sand
last dream of the shanghaied seagoing men.

What would I give for a storybook nook
I’d offer it all the time that it took
to take me away to wherever it would
leave me enraptured by a murmuring brook.
kgl Jun 2017
if, while on the other side of the world,
you buy me a book
and post it to me
along with the words
'i read this and i thought of you
and i knew you had to read it too'

then what else is left for me to do
except
         to
           fall
               in
                 love
                       with
                              you.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2017
The flight is
   already
      booked
         at the right
           time and space.

   Get
      going!
        Don't wait
          to be dead.
floriculturist Jun 2017
don't you dare put me back on that bookshelf because you've decided that you may not want me now, but you just might pick me out again someday. i am vintage, something you should press lovingly to your lips. but to me that dream seems to be ephemeral at best. yes, my words are old and my pages tea-stained, but doesn't that make me beautiful? yes, my edges are worn and torn and frayed, but doesn't that mean to treat me with delicacy? and yes, darling, i am falling apart at the seams, but doesn't that mean you should be there to take care of me? and not just throw me aside and break me at my spine just because you think i'm useless. no matter how many times i'd think to waste my words on you, someone else will gladly be able to discover them somewhere, someday. i will captivate his eyes with each page, each letter, each jumbled together in haste to make art in black and white. and yes, someone will cherish me and hold me near and dear. and if that someone isn't be you, please give me away to someone who will.

l.a.c
Acknowledge that we are each our own common denominator!
The sum of all our parts, brought to account !




The book stops with you!
Blame & passing the book!
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