Saturday, May 14, 2011

He Is A Poet He Dies Everyday

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he reminds me
of a love story gone sour
he loved her immensely
in his life his poetry
she was his ivory tower
she was his soul his strength
his manly godly power
till she got enraptured with another
beautiful fan tail dove in her bower
she forgot her moment of nostalgia
memories petals leaves and flowers
timeless pain the heart of a poet
devours the pining seconds minutes
the stop gap hours ...all washed
away in a gush of monsoonal shower
even the bodies we own is not ours

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