I speak of things i feel, so primordial, that structured expression kills the essence.
I speak of things i see.
so easy to ignore, yet, so crucial
I find release in the seeming disorder of my Poetry; the subtle signs i see.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
June
"How did it get late so soon?
Its night before afternoon.
December is here before its June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?
Yea how did it get so late without any Meghna-bits??
ReplyDeleteDr. Suess is turning in his grave :)
It rhymes beyond words. Poetry today rarely carries that.
ReplyDelete@DP: Dr. Seuss just killed his pet cat out of frustration. I <3 Dr. Seus. dont you?
ReplyDelete@Aks: The cat in the hat, Horton hears a who. such beauties :)