Madness Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

May be just an ailment or disease.
Love drives one crazy.
One Jesus heart
May be crucified
Under one season flower plant.
Hark the dry cries
From the dead logs
Only little ago they were live trees.

All talismans went blunt
When the skin had caterpillar rashes.
Things that herald will herald coming fests
But a chopped heart gets worse than a mess!

May be just an ailment or a disease.
Hopes reach out for happiness.
Sham pretexts come to play.
It`s ever hard to find an oasis in Sahara sands.

This is a darn disease.
Aches nag all over.
It hammers and shovels bosom earth.
All ribs-bone powder mixes with the blood flow.
Summer feels winter and winter feels numb.
It takes onto a pyre or down under soil.

May be just an ailment or a disease.
Love drives one crazy.
Pests are alive but pesticide is gone.
Call in an ambulance the love lorn has taken!
Held-up in a traffic before one rail crossing.
Now quiet is the heart and quiet the brisk world.
Only the poor old lady is thoroughly wet in sad-tears.