Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Spring Paradox


She has come, she has come, she has come!
Finally on the side of the street where sun rays shone.
The leaves are all new, shining bright and painted fresh green,
The doves on my ledge have collars with iridescent green.
The month of March has ushered her arrival,
I saw a truck full of chicken silent and non committal,
And I wondered was it because it was on the other side?
Where the sun rays had decided not to shine.
Or she too had come,
And I shall meet her at Lunch,
Salivating, tender, well done, and crunch.

Submitted: Friday, March 01, 2013
Edited: Saturday, March 02, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Spring Paradox by Hardik Vaidya )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Never mind, hasmukh amathalal
  2. At The Living Creche, Keith Taylor
  3. I resign, Nassy Fesharaki
  4. Prairie Fire, Keith Taylor
  5. One-Sided Faith, Edgar Albert Guest
  6. The First Rule Of Golf, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. The Women Of The Sailors, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. Not A Money Debt, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. A Friend's Greeting, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. Old-Fashioned Folks, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]