Lament Of A Wash-Basin - Poem by chandra thiagarajan
LAMENT OF A WASH-BASIN
Very sorry my friends,
If by my lament,
Your tender hearts, I hurt,
When thus out I blurt.
But no other way have I,
To gain your sympathy o'er my cry,
Than in black and white to mention
And draw your kind attention.
All of you I beseech,
To yonder bin to reach
And, my dears-there to empty
Your tiffin-boxes, of left-overs sundry.
Of my gurgling throat, I'm sure,
It'll no more be wrote to cure,
For, I hope, you'll ne'er again so choke
And then, with a rod try to poke!
Thank you so much, my dears,
For so patiently lending your ears,
To the lament of a poor sink,
In this emanating stink!
Comments about Lament Of A Wash-Basin by chandra thiagarajan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You