Without mud’s and care!
Breathing we wreathe
Unbreathing we weed
Perseverance! Thy art; O Lord!
A nice friend
Mother is eaten by the kids
“O Crab! ”
Where our perception is confused
True and false is misused
A truth established.
Nude and painful
We are suffering.
I had a bull dog
So lovely he was
A promised one
The rogue! .
After sometime noticed I
To tell this I feel shy
Dog was barking at me
And my full family,
But seeing intruder
waved the tail
Silently! crisply! merrily!
Once I kissed the hiss
Created fuss on to the rival
To be a great for survival
When Hiss turned to me
Reacting worst then the enemy
I called them senseless bugger
All laughed including me
Mirth of childhood!
Water doesn’t keep anything
From the outer world, pushes up
Our body also does the same
A natural phenomenon
Can truth be buried in falseyard?
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Comments about this poem (Drops by Aftab Alam )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(18 July 1933)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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