Its architecture
The real manual
Made of squares and polygons
Scudding with the flow of wind
Wishy -washy movements that is transparent
Even as the flap of a bubble
Roots are not clear
A real creation not meant by manpower
A snowy raw that snub his thoughts
Even can hang for his life time
Real creator a spider
Who is lament for his prey?
Patience is his treasure
A far thought from human
Time may bend him, but not forever
Glitter will attract the dupe
The copious confidence will trap the creature
It’s beyond his act
The cremation forever
Who is the real convict?
One who is trapped in ambitions?
Or who wait to get it
Ambitions are the terminators
And wisdom a credit to life
©2014 SALINI.S.NAIR. All rights reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Salini i like your poetry which has a distinct signature style.i look forward to reading more if your work