What I had to say,
I’ve already told,
I won’t repeat again,
Unless you give me gold,
Okay you’ll give?
I’ll repeat it once,
Go up and read what’s written in Bold.
The font’s so big,
I think you didn’t miss,
The fact that you should,
Never read this,
For the more you read,
The less you know,
That makes you less human,
And more of a crow.
These were the words of a great man,
Of whose great works I am a great fan,
His every poem is an inspiration,
But his existence is in my imagination.
Hence, you won’t know him,
He’s an alien to you,
But don’t feel bad,
Because he’s known by few,
And none of those who do know him,
Have walked on Earth and are a part of my dream.
This was why I asked you to not read,
Because right now I am in a deep need,
To imagine weird stuff and share them in a poem,
Then write that on a paper and burn it with a flame.
Many a times,
We are sad,
Many a times,
The World is bad,
Many a times,
We weep the tears,
Many a time,
We face our fears.
Our Dream comes true,
We are with no clue,
We live the life,
We get stabbed with knife.
Should we follow the evil,
Should we meet the devil,
Should we give up,
and Never again,
Would our hearts stop!
This poem is hard to understand,
For it has no rhythm,
Poetic devices too are hard to find,
Absent Alliterations Make Men Wonder Why,
No connections between any two line,
You get fed up and say, “Yeah, fine!
Maybe I hot a hint of rhyme.”
And as soon as you guys have said that,
My ears did hear it from under the hat,
And I discontinued the crime,
That is to rhyme,
Although that was a lie,
I guess by now you understood why,
But that does not answer,
The question we began with,
If this poem has no title,
Then what its title should really be,
a blank to be filled in,
a phrase to be drilled in,
should it be left empty?
This is a serial. Everyday a new part will be published. This is the last part.
Continued from here.
Her final moments were spent a year ago. And ever since, she has inhabited this grand cloudy community along with everyone else who had ceased to live.
All of a sudden, we find our best friend, whom we had lost recently, running towards us and every mystery reveals itself in a flash. We understand what paradise really was. A community in the clouds! That’s where everybody who died, lived. The fact that everybody we knew, everybody dear, did not leave us forever, brings immeasurable joy to our mind. Ecstatic and nervous, we feel the need to go to the washroom. Because, in the old age, controlling it is difficult.
Our friend points us to the washroom. Just when we are about to walk in, we read a signboard, “Thank You for Contributing Towards Rain.”
We hear the thunder because we now know, what that heavenly fluid descending from the clouds and drenching our clothes and wetting our hair and faces, really was!