Friday, 4 September 2009

To poetry (For Odia for being a poem)

Once I saw a little bird
Coming hop, hop, hop...

A little bird is my song
A little band binds my wrist
A little bridge I must cross

This bird that's a poem
Darting across my eye
Sleighing with the times, lives

This being that bleeds poetry
Came alone, battered to the nails
With only poetry remaining intact

So I said little bird
Will you stop, stop, stop...

Lines and verses as shelter
Horsehide between my teeth
The only hunger inside is poetry

Aging in verse and form and rhymes
Renewing everyday afresh in style
Living in poetry brings youthfulness

As I was going to the window
To say how do you do....

Moving with the tide.

His last name is: a-poem.

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