Distichs for the Defaulter
From the dawn of time I remained barren
Don’t know when the morn has got its end
And reddened hibiscus turned to leaden
But yet you are staying as bud in the garden
Inside the curvature of unreachable mountain
Alike to the printed form of meandering lines.
I didn’t get a pinch of cloud to mope the sign
Of that lonesome name or its raw excitement
In any lane or highway of the flowing moments.
Had I receive that what I’d to get at the outset !
had everything than reached its desired end !
You’ve hidden the cirro-cumulus and all eye wept,
All upshot of mine was enmarked for you, as my fate.
You would’ve been a peacock in exile to some forest
And I was an escapist a far reaching monsoon gate.
That’s why today only stitching the distichs of words.
You’re the mimosa once lay off with my touch.
That comps of pain I’m offering you my sweetheart
which you’ve taught me with your ingenious heart.
OUR POETRY CORNER 
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