There's this young lass, a Los Angelest,
Who her nude snaps sold, for self the least,
But for a selfless cause—
For bush-fire loss it was,
...
A project got delayed when, and stalled,
Brave people! They never got appalled,
A way out was soon found—
And I'd say, quite profound,
...
O Muse of my song,
The way, for water waits parched sands
I've loved you for long.
Keep filled my poetic pot,
...
Some poems like a storm come to hit,
And to no form do they ever fit.
Some, like breeze to a kite
Take us to fancy flight.
...
Watch the birds when they wake up—
Wake up when early at dawn,
They sing paeans of praise for dawn.
...
Love's the song to sing.
If loved, ugliest duckling
Looks like pretty spring.
____________________________
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Beware, you might males encourage,
No showy clothes, it might attract,
It's hard the male mind to distract,
It might challenge their macho rage.
...
To grudging mankind far and wide
Nature's been a faithful good friend—
All Nature, far and close at hand,
At beck and call, ready to guide;
...
O ye tree sans shade,
Under thee no one rested,
Thine fruits no'ne tasted.
...
A kindly lady in a large house lives with her brother, both unmarried, both elderly, say, around seventy. Imagine you stay with them for two years— the two graceful hosts, more than the income from a paying guest, they care for some souls around. Soon you become part of that household. But then, you have to leave the town on transfer, they let you go with a heavy heart. It is difficult for you too to part. You promise to visit them soon and leave. But ‘soon' somehow gets stretched to three long years, and when you manage to visit, it is too late. Death, man's nearest companion, had called on them, and in a span of a few days, you come to know.
With some sense of sin
You tear away from the scene,
...