The God Is Angry Poem by Mahathi Mydavolu

GOD
(Rhyme royal)
You're God of worlds, an omnipotent great
Who can see every mite to mountains tall.
We worship, pray and wait at temple gate
For darshan your. We clamber hill and knoll
Where you prefer to settle and we call
You by your thousand names, implore with eyes
Our spilling tears! Can you shun them as lies.

But may be lies, O Lord your smile on face,
Your solemn poise and your assuring palms.
We fear your weapons fierce, the disc and mace.
Beholding them we're filled with dreadful qualms.
And lo, we pray your weapons too with Psalms.
Dont look with pouted mouth O Lord with ire.
I heard such praise-abuse you well admire.