Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 22, 2017

GLORIOUS~by Indira Sadanandan




Sometimes I write poems
Inspite of my ignorance in
Rhythm, melody, harmony
Selection of words and with
The limit in my knowledge of
Using the language.
I write just not because I want
To write but because the poems
Are always clinging to the fringes
Of my attire that those babies
Want me to lift them up to be
Seated at my waist.
Sometimes they pester me by
Not letting me sleep properly
Not to eat or bathe.
Then I would run away from those
Naughty little kids, but they chase me
To make me run fast to long distance
But with remorse slowly.
I would be back to them while they lie
Exhausted and disappointed.
Then I would make them sleep on my
Tidy beautiful white sheet of paper
Leading them to sleep peacefully.


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