WRITING

Walking Along The Road.

Walking along the road,

I saw the sun was shining brightly on the leaves of the roadside tree

Many were the trees which had luscious fruits on them.

There was an apple tree,

And the apples were shining in the hue of brightest tinge of red,

Which reminded me of my younger days.

Walking along the road,

I met a man whose bike had broken down,

And he was trying to kick start it.

I was waiting for my mother.

The man –“This damn won’t start. Can you help me?”

I-“I know nothing about bikes.Sorry.”

The man-“Oh! It’s alright.

By the way why are you standing here and where are you going?”

(I was pacing up and down the stretch of the road where Ma was supposed to meet me.”

I replied-“Towards the dam.”

“The dam?”

“Yes, there’s a fish seller nearby, who sells fresh water fish”

“Ah! He’s my brother.”        

“And today’s catch is huge. I can give you a lift if you want.”

“Thank you. But my mother would be coming along in a few minutes in her car,

So, we will go to the dam in the car.”

The man smiled and said- “Bye for now. If you don’t meet me at my brother’s shop,

Then know that I would have gone fishing.”

He went away on his bike.

Few minutes later Ma came, and both of us went to the fish shop.

It seemed that Tilo had gone fishing.

Adios!

Uncategorized

The Melodic Singing.

The melodic singing.

Would blow away everyone’s ears.

Such was the singing.

The melody was as blunt as a drum playing a flute.

The melody singing was so screechy,

That if your ears didn’t become red, painful and blooming,

You could call it a melody.

The melodic singing,

Was not fit for any display,

Not even for the singer’s mind.

So, the melodic singing was kept locked in the locker of the deep mind,

From where it won’t be retrieved for ever and ever again.

Adios!

WRITING

In My Prose.

I wrote you a letter,

Which you haven’t replied to.

In my prose,

I reminisced that once you had helped me,

But yet you didn’t reply.

I thought maybe you hadn’t received my letter.

I waited and waited.

Atlast the reply came,

It said that-“My friend I am coming to meet you.”

Adios!

Poetry

Happy Birthday To My Dearest Friend Lark.

Today is the birthday of my dearest friend Lark,

Who used to play a lot,

And still does.

And was a king of the kings.

A true winner,

And the one who guides,

Is he.

More than a friend,

More than a brother.

A light which can never be extinguished.

We wish him many many happy returns of the day.

Adios!