A Cross Country Race
A series of failures and mistakes,
Bribed with few smiles and success,
Like the thunder sparks, once in a while,
We all call it ….. as life.
When you rub your nose
Being fallen in the sand and dust,
Some love, lust and a little success also
Arrive as a mirage in that deserted life.
Most of us are such a rascal -
We forget all our early pains and fears,
We move around that kiss, hug and love
Or that little success during then.
It's like a lollipop fed to a child
Before administering the bitter pills,
We all again are put into multiple miseries
After that interim spell of happiness.
Still we all run and stumble
Gambling throughout till our end,
Bruising, hurting, injuring
All our delicate senses.
No one can come out
Of this cross country race,
Whether you are a tyrant
Or even as a saint.
Life is like that only,
Being followed by a piper -
And pulling towards the end.
Amative (25.04.2014) 8-00 pm
©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AMITAVA SUR
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Comments about this poem (A Cross Country Race by Amitava Sur )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(2 November 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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