Talking to myself through poetry
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As raw as the radish
Edible and ravish
She was naked like day born
So wet yet, she still burns.
Her both hands were raised up
Then slowly they both dropped
Like light that never hides
Rescue she had outside
She made no sulky pout
When a snake was let out
Growing like a mushroom
In mist tint bathroom
Through the glass loud she screams
But away from the beam
Behind the glass she moans
To her best ever fun.
Soon you will be off an infant cloth And may encounter storms, dirt and rust Some achievements may seem a mirage Unachievable until success emerge…
Let the pages fly and spread their wings Let my spilled inks make millions to think It is plain and simple, hope it sinks “All…
Simple or made into an Elf What is music to a born deaf? Same question goes without tongues Pot or Chef, who spoilt the stock?…
It is no news that the pigs are fat As a result of the embezzlements Taking politics as a personal farm Eating from the labors…
