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murari sinha Oct 2010
1.
i may call it a leaflet
i may call it a handbill

but don’t you notice
a large number of gossips
is natant in the air

do you admit that the fuming heart
that’s  glorifying the plate
should be made a must-read
for any seed-bed

the sun tells that to keep-fit
the health of the clouds
the instigation of the perfumed-soap
is required

with that pituitary
some neighing of horses
that is fastened tightly with cork

now see
if you can offer pregnancy
even to the barbie doll

by the by
it should be informed here
if the question of roaming in the woods
is raised

the highly-educated bathroom
feels very helpless

and taking repeated somersaults
in the sunshine
in the rains

the folding umbrella
also have got very much out-of-temper
Tryniti Jun 2020
I wish I knew what you were thinking
It's killing me to be so unclear
Never able to catch up, I'm sinking
In a sea of gray, and you're nowhere near

Grabbing desperately at clouds
That were only ever in my head
Pleading, wishing, shouting out loud
Wishing to be natant - I can only tread

Won't you shed a little light?
The waters are deep and I cannot swim..
Won't you tell me if I'm right?
Aching all over, my chances look slim

Don't you know I need a little rest?
You've grabbed my heart, left your mark
And even when I'm trying my best..
Don't you know I'm afraid of the dark?
Written 1.25.2020
Alan S Jeeves Sep 2020
Clouds loom drifting, passing by,
The west wind gently tempts them on
Though no one knows what cause them cry
And no one hears their pleading voice
As all their acid tears well dry.

Snowy white, in rank and file,
The south wind warmly glides them far;
Smiling wryly all the while
Natant high above the earth
Ambling on, mile after mile.

Alluring to the offhand glancer
The east wind briskly chafes them forth
Skittering like the showtime dancer
Yet hidden deep within their breast
A growing rude and covert cancer.

But nature's wrath will bid her toll
The north wind casts the clouds astray
Freezing, breezing, pole to pole,
The stricken, tainted, wisps will wane ~
Dare no one care to save their soul?

So now as time is dwindling low
As the ill winds clime their worst
The poisoned rains, in flooding flow,
**** our land to end mankind ~
And still, the winds shall wanton blow

ASJ

— The End —