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A strange combat

3 votes, average: 5.00 out of 53 votes, average: 5.00 out of 53 votes, average: 5.00 out of 53 votes, average: 5.00 out of 53 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5
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Crowned Poem, English Poetry

Why are you all
lying on the floor?
Everytime I assemble
deck you on the table,
then as I march out
to fetch a ink pot and a brush stout,
rah! rah! rah!
I can hear you fly
braiding a rhythmic sound
as I peep through the back of my eye
in front my expressions frown.
You soar up so high
tired I give up with a sigh!
you dance and flutter
ensembling the song of your motion.
I sit and ponder
to put an end to your commotion.
Wondering is me, if you were a kite
then you would have been the puppet of my might.
I command you to calm down
Ah! as you slap my head
and merry go round and round.
As I was tapping my head
with index finger nail-polished red.
A notion dawned onto me,
to win the combat with super ease,
I yawned and stretched my hand,
reaching for the magical wand,
a mocking smile veiled my face,
as I turned off the up hanging three blades race,
poor papers gasped as they slouch gradually,
amidst I was standing tall at my eventual glory!!!!

8 Comments

  1. kusumgokarn says:

    Sonal,
    A fine study of a writer’s troublesome mental block .
    Kusum

  2. Gion Gion says:

    Sonal,
    loved it. A strange feel to the language but a fine expression.
    It it tiredness or are have we tuned out the world when we find ourselves in these surreal situations.
    Finally comprehension breaks through and the episode is over.
    “…. if you were a kite
    then you would have been the puppet of my might.” – great,
    Gion

  3. medhini says:

    A lovely poem well presented
    taking the reader to a strange
    world,Sonal.

  4. Vishvnand says:

    A very beautiful poem of enchanting idea & delight
    Enjoyed thoroughly the elegantly pondering superb flight….
    Hearty kudos

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