Tuesday, January 8, 2013



IMAGES

From my eastern garden
i watched monsoon
and listened the music
of raindrops..
From the mango tree
of my village house,
childhood played in rain..
In growing years,
on border lines of transition
a part of me torn apart
to block the arrows of intruders
i lost my origin in between
on invader's stone carved
revenge hills...
i filled a million words against their
stone hills and reached at the end
to one poetic autumn star....

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