Ne'er asked my hairs to scatter on my back,
When started dancing I was dressed and pack,
But the ecstasy of dance one by one,
Did something that couldn't be undone,
Ne'er knew my skirt will rise to a height,
And my landscapes may become so bright,
Ne'er asked anyone to romance with me,
Ne'er asked my skirt to dance with me!
Now walk and fall on my dead cold slips,
With starring your eyes on static hips,
You may kiss a photograph of frozen lips.
Hot was exposed for a moment's sips,
For living lenses who twinkle for the arts,
For living humans who breath with hearts.
Could feel the impulse of a glance with me!
Ne'er asked my skirt to dance with me!
With your dead lenses you captured it,
You yellow journalist you deserve a shit,
Now go and sell it to the needy media,
Promoters of sensation the greedy mafia,
Not a piece of meat, no, no, never,
In the garbage bin are bones, however,
Not a date with me, not a chance with me,
Ne'er asked my skirt to dance with me!
Not a piece of meat, no, no, never, In the garbage bin are bones, however, Not a date with me, not a chance with me, Ne'er asked my skirt to dance with me! grrrt touched the point sirji......... penned the great feeling of an artist (dancer) which never ever can a common man understands........ Ans that media they just wanna spices for there falsy cook
Media one pillar out of the three pillars of a democratic county sometimes seems to be good to have but sometimes they are the main reason to develop a rift and an environment of devastation....a beautiful poem....liked it....thank you for sharing :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ne'er knew my skirt will rise to a height, And my landscapes may become so bright, I greatly admire your ability at finding diversified themes for your poems! Kudos to your fertile imagination! A full 10