The Case Unsolved….
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Loading ...First ever ballad by me. I published it long ago but it remained unnoticed, and hence I have again published it.
Its old one, though….
Plz.. bear with the length!
’Twas that twenty fifth day,
On which “Merry Christmas”, the people say.
A party was going out there,
Christians worship the God where.
But no sooner that horrible fall,
Became the place an empty hall.
The fall was of the costless thing,
Of the person on whom the death sing.
Wherefrom the fall began?
“We don’t know!” said a gentleman.
“Who are you?” asked Mr. Dowlase,
Who was the sole detective of this case.
“I am the father, of this very church.”
Said he, and after began the search.
On the order, police checked everyone,
Just when a sound heard of shooting with a gun.
Dowlase hurriedly went up the stairs,
And found out two shot Rugby players.
He swiftly gazed out,
And with all throats gave a shout.
“Hey you, catch that man!”
Said he to a person on road selling tan.
Though the latter tried his best,
But awfully failed in this test.
“Oh no! ….But then you tried.”
Consoled Dowlase, and took his side.
He came back to the murder’s room,
Where he found a blood-red broom.
He doubted it had the white blood too,
Thus sent it to find what was true.
He searched for criminal’s prints,
Or for any other left-out hints.
But all went in nothing but vain,
And was no cause of criminal’s pain.
The day, however, passed futile,
With no reason for him to smile.
The other day he found a cab,
That was there with a fake-looking tab.
The suspicion was obvious and high,
“It is here since yesterday!” said a guy.
This was enough for suspicion to be fanned,
As for 36 hours, it was unmanned.
Outside the gate of the vessel, he found
Shoe prints on mud, on the wet ground.
“It was what I was looking for.” said Dowlase,
And clouds of happiness hovered upon his face.
Just then came a fatal storm,
The weather became worst in the calm morn.
“O God! He’s a clever criminal” yelled he,
“Even more clever than a detective like me!”
The reason was worth a shout,
“Can I catch him?” said he in doubt.
The shoes were within the cab,
And that gave him a painful stab.
Rest; there was nothing in it,
As the case became an even deeper pit.
He wanted to work out a nab,
When the broom was still in lab.
He was annoyed even more,
On seeing the report, was left sore.
It came out to be negative and useless,
“No suspect yet!” cried every press.
Strolling in his private park,
He was stricken by a bright spark.
He quickly went to the same car,
But found it standing little too far.
Paying no heed, he went to it,
And the near ground, spray he hit.
And then he smiled in the natural way,
As in the sunshine, he made the hay.
“I have got the footprints of the Evil One,
Go fast, deliver it. Run… and just run.”
Shouted Dowlase to inspector, and
Was happy to shovel out the sand.
“If he was with naked feet” he said,
“then there must be some prints to heed.”
Now the criminal’s picture was clean,
And the nature of murderer was, of course, mean.
Still Dowlase was severely shocked,
This shock to him was to be topped.
The wrong one was the same vendor,
Whom he trusted and thought to be tender.
To be really honest, I don't think i am a poet. Rather I am just a child who has a hobby of writing poems. They de-stress me a lot. I don't really plan out and then write the poem. Unlike professionals, I can't write poem any time I want. I write a poem (only when i am in mood) in not more than 20-min., be it a good or a bad one. But I am very happy to know that India is never going to lag behind with presence of all skilled poets like you...........
age of 16, poem is very जहीन.
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Tarun Reply:
September 30th, 2008 at 7:53 am
Sorry, I could not read the last word. Probably, its in in some other font! Can u post in English please.
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