I write a sentence. You write two.
I ask for consolation. You talk about your failures.
I always begin. You are never ending.
I mostly sit. You prance but never at me.
I tell you that I don't mean a thing I say. You tell me you don't either.
I cut the line. You go astray.
I want to talk. You want to scribble.
There's two of us and then two of you;
I'll make movies, you make stew.
p.s: Have you noticed how I don't make much sense any more? Also, one of my poems (if you can call it that) 'Cider from the Old City' is getting published in a book/publication called Inspired By Tagore and is being released by the British Council this May. Sadly, I wont be able to attend the launch. Nothing big as such.
I ask for consolation. You talk about your failures.
I always begin. You are never ending.
I mostly sit. You prance but never at me.
I tell you that I don't mean a thing I say. You tell me you don't either.
I cut the line. You go astray.
I want to talk. You want to scribble.
There's two of us and then two of you;
I'll make movies, you make stew.
p.s: Have you noticed how I don't make much sense any more? Also, one of my poems (if you can call it that) 'Cider from the Old City' is getting published in a book/publication called Inspired By Tagore and is being released by the British Council this May. Sadly, I wont be able to attend the launch. Nothing big as such.
7 comments:
makes perfect sense to me, the poem. it talks to me.
and congratulationsssss, youuuuu :) :) :)
Wow! Nothing big as such you say? That's brilliant. Congratulations.
And yes, you make sense to me. :)
Thank you gurlz. :)
Congrats, me love :-)
It's quite big. Congratz man :)
Adrita,
Congratulations. I am so happy. This one shows two who are made for each other, so different but still same.
Take care
Thanks :)
Fiction post is fiction
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