Old School Management 0123
Director D. described his drive
as 'urge to acquisition',
and so did nothing but contrive
to prop up his position:
his happiness would still derive
deferring all decision.
To drone as master of the hive
implies some sense of mission,
and so he primed his poisoned chive
with silent, spot precision,
colleagues who tried to look alive
were stifled by suspicion.
To toil four hours, sometimes five,
was felt an impositon,
for lunch, however, he'd arrive
poor corporate politician.
In order corpulence to shrive,
the firm paid his physician.
In idleness most do connive
lest one gain recognition,
invention rive, repress, don't strive,
in supine supposition
that someday something may arrive
to save them, superstition!
Without incentive we deprive
ourselvees of hope, of vision.
Enthusiasm some would stive,
there's no sin like commission!
Where dreams of grandeur we'd revive,
we'll overcome derision.
Tomorrow should stop Sterling's dive
as we shrug off submission
for no Industry can thrive
on inner dereliction,
with impulse, stong will to survive,
we'll break out date tradition!
(23 October 1976)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Après la Fête
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllll
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllll
APRES LA FETE
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to the ground rules lain.
Although some for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain.
Bee, moth, attracted to wick’d flame,
no curtain call will long retain, -
another worker ticked from hive
which still remains no less alive...
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Repeat of Last Month's Advertisement
Humour Intended:
Information appears on Television
Complete with music,
A pleasure to listen...
We need an intelligent graduate
One with a kindly disposition.
One who can make an urgent decision
Carried out with utmost precision.
A person with humour, foresight and vision.
A person with a mission...
Salaries are now under revision
And salesmen earn top-rate commission
Our goods we offer in perfect condition
So apply today for this coveted position.
Please note: This coming Friday
is the last day for submission.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After the Carnival - Apres la Fete
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass's bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there's no energy to pray.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
That one's posterity will stay
when life's departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
For previous version revised 21 May 2005 see below
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures' knives -
which often with ‘success' connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain's then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive.
For previous version revised 29 April 2005 see below
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to the ground rules lain.
Although some for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures' knives -
which often with ‘success' connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain's then proved vain.
Bee, moth, attracted to wick'd flame,
no curtain call will long retain,
another worker ticked from hive
which still remains no less alive.
(29 December 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Antiperistasis
ANTIPERISTASIS
Fused through finest fairy fission,
emerald, jasper, jade,
to nothingness soon fade.
High symbols of romance soon fade
beside volcanic fires displayed
in dancing eyes of fairest maid,
who is a most enchanting vision!
Lovely, angel apparation!
in grey-green woolen plaid,
and cape of light brown suede.
Soft phantom of delight, when laid
upon my sight, as I surveyed
perfection’s sweet façade
reminiscient of great Titian.
And should e’er in exhibition
your image be portrayed
in Florence, Sorbonne, Slade,
should ever this win accolade
it would be truth betrayed, -
pale imitation made
of all thats best in heaven!
My soul is bound, in prison.
Name hidden, homage paid,
For were my heart X rayed
or its sheathed sinews open laid,
by scalpel blade displayed, -
Could purity persuade?
Why this sudden disparatition?
Why has our trysting been repaid
by such a very brief fruition?
Please reply to my petition,
to clarify your opposition.
./.
These empty compliments, when paid,
put people in a false position,
ever appear an imposition.
To be my poor soul’s sole physician
was this your heart’s supreme ambition?
or, only angry at dismission,
you lampoon love in pasquinade?
Perhaps your reason, Sir, has strayed,
mazed by a misplaced supposition!
I never thought to craze, imprison,
heart elsewhere already given.
My goal it neither was, nor mission,
to daze your soul into submission, -
I sought a comrade, not a cade!
Imaginations may be swayed,
for Eros is a fly magician,
leading emotion’s ebullition
down, down to bottomless perdition,
like siren sweet, mermaid musician
rewarding passion with prodition.
Tis true, - you fantasies obeyed.
With time, all ardour tends to jade,
so rectify this biased vision!
I am no perfect acquisition
like Caesar’s wife, above suspicion!
Before you reach a wrong decision
distrust distorted intuition -
shun this charade, false masquerade!
Another my fair hand has prayed.
Although resenting inquisition
I’ve explained my evanition:
Do not dispute, please, this decision.
5 May 1979
robi03_0166_robi03_0000 XXX_LOX
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life from In Quest to Inquest
Arrival alive 'in quest' strive
to drive over rival hive to inquest rive
(13 November 2011)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After the Carnival
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way
as senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over. May
to Winter bows, Spring shall not stay, -
the darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can long sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
n.b. wicket, wicked wick et (and in French)
Après la Fête
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
what once was certain now seems vain.
Another worker leaves the hive,
which is, itself, no less alive.
13 October 1988
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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House 155
Once upon a midnight dreary
Where light was
Weak and weary
Ghost and goblins Run to
House 155 in Mary
Trick or treat
Was there story
Until their
End was gory
The thunder clapped, lightening flashed.
they heard an evil cackle
A ruby liquid filled the house of 155
House 155
Go in but
not out alive
say trick our treat
a sure way to not survive
on all hollows eve
the house Zombies revive
A diabolical plan
They will contrive
To wait for the
Ghost and goblins to connive
Parent of ghost asking
'What happens to my seeds
tell me all me more'
Will the goblins live?
Qouth the physician nevermore
On Halloween
The goblins perish
And nothing more
Goblin that real name
Is john smith
Is now gone
For evermore
A trick or treater of
House 155
Is no more
Do you dare go to
House 155 on Halloween
I hope no one nevermore!
poem by Jose Duran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Striving
Striving is life, yet life is striving;
I fight to live, yet live to fight;
The vital urge is in my driving,
Yet I must drive with all my might:
Each day a battle, and the fray
Stoutly renewed the coming day.
A am myself - yet when I strive
I build a self that's truer, higher;
I keep my bit of God alive
And forgive me in heroic fire:
What if my goal I never gain -
Better to toil than to attain.
It is not what I do or make,
It is the travail of my trying;
The aim, the effort and the ache
Is in the end my glorifying:
Through triumph I may never see,
The will to win is victory.
Striving is strength: with all that's in me
I will not falter in the fray;
And though no shining crown it win me,
I'll fight unto my latest day:
Strive on! - and though I win no place,
Uphold the spirit of the race.
Behold yon peaks that mock my climbing. . . .
I peer from out the dusty plain;
Dark falls, the mission bells are chiming
As on to starry heights I strain;
Despite the night up, up I plod
To gain the golden meads of God.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Contentment Is The Best Sentiment
Happiness will surely arrive
Like this you must think
Then to work you just dive
Forming with success a link
When happiness comes not
Do not live with deep dejection
A solution must be sought
Taking precious hope-injection
Happiness is a relative term
Some acquire it very easily
To be happy if you are firm
You will acquire it surely
A dose of prayer taken
May create inner peace
Boredom may be broken
As prayer will appease
Billion dollars may be earned
Still it may fail to fetch joy
More and more if is yearned
Then in life one may not enjoy.
poem by Mailrangam Visvanathan Venkataraman
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Magic
(john farrar)
Come take my hand
You should know me
Ive always been in your mind
You know that Ill be kind
Ill be guiding you
Building your dream
Has to start now
Theres no other road to take
You wont make a mistake
Ill be guiding you
You have to believe we are magic
Nothin can stand in our way
You have to believe we are magic
Dont let your aim ever stray
And if all your hopes survive
Your destiny will arrive
Ill bring all your dreams alive
For you
From where I stand
You are home free
The planets align so rare
Theres promise in the air
And Im guiding you
Through every turn Ill be near you
Ill come anytime you call
Ill catch you when you fall
Ill be guiding you
You have to believe we are magic
Nothin can stand in our way
You have to believe we are magic
Dont let your aim ever stray
And if all your hopes survive
Your destiny will arrive
Ill bring all your dreams alive
For you
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Car
When Im behind the wheel
Horses of gas and steel
The highway is my home
In fiberglass and chrome
Fantasy car shiny corvette
Lets take a ride you cant forget
Come on pretty lady ride with me
In my car
Im captain of my destiny
In my car
Pretty babe come cruise with me
Come for a drive
And well arrive
Feelin alive
Im master of my fate
When I accelerate
My new vette is my throne
When on the road we roam we roam we roam roam
Cruisin like were in a dream
Feelin like were still sixteen
Being a part of the great american scene
In my car
Im captain of my destiny
In my car
Pretty babe come cruise with me
Come for a drive
And well arrive
Feelin alive
Cruise cruise cruise with me baby
Now move move up in the stratosphere
Zoom zoom zoom with me darlin now
Were still cruisin after all these
Cruisin after all these years
Wind blowing in my hair
I feel like a millionaire
Radio is blasting strong
Were breaking out in song
Blazing trails both near and far
Park my car behind a star
Life is full of possibilities
In my car
Im captain of my destiny
In my car
Oh pretty babe come cruise with me
Come for a drive
And well arrive
Feelin alive
In my car
Im captain of my destiny
In my car
Oh pretty babe come cruise with me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blance, where were you...?
Blance, where were you when I was still alive?
come just to think of it, life was a game;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Black vanishing plummet, Oettinger strive
race on marginal speed is not to blame
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Wolf-colder bite November frost to skive;
Vain was this agon for, distance to tame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Breathless our life was at twenty-five,
live dangerous, on road, afore to aim,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Selected Nymph, one promise to derive;
She was a softer misty form, my dame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Apotheotic nacreous form, swan dive;
November of anamnesis, became,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I Just Don't Wan't
I don't want to break this shell
I don't want any one to tell
I just want happiness to dwell
In every phase of my life
In every place where I survive
I just want the happiness drive
It's not that I cannot feel
It's not that it doens't appeal
I just don't want to steal
Others joy and give them tears
When they don't have anyone to share
Nor anyone to tell that they care
I don't want to lose hope
Neither I want to mope
I just want the happiness rope
That won't let me weep
Till I lie down forever to sleep
In earth's lap that is deep
Where no one for me can tell
To stop wishing for happiness to dwell
And to break up my built in shell.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Call On Me
[verse 1]
There goes the sunshine
Here comes the rain
And heartache pain
What can I do but wait for you?
Darling the days
I had were cold
Now our separate ways we go
It seems you want more
Than the love I can give
But I cant make you stay
And youve got your life to live
[chorus]
But if it gets too rough
Call on me
[verse 2]
Dreams of golden glare
Taking you away from here
But if ever things that have to be
Turns your dreams around
Love and understanding is what you need
[chorus]
If you cant get enough
Call on me
[bridge]
Im so sad youre leaving
Its gonna to kill me
Not to be with you
But I want you to be happy
If heartaches what you want
Then I want it too
[verse 3]
So goodbye with all my prayers
For your happiness in a world elsewheree
Should you arrive and its not there
Call on me, call on me
[tag]
Yes, happiness
Waits for you elsewhere
Remember this
Should you arrive and its not there
Call on me... call on me
Yes, happiness
Waits for you elsewhere
Remember this
Should you arrive and its not there
Call on me... call on me
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Close My Eyes
I close my eyes like a good little boy at night in bed,
as I was told to do by my mother when she lived,
and before bed I brush my teeth and slip on my pajamas,
as I was told, and look forward to tomorrow.
I do all things required of me to make me a citizen of sterling worth.
I keep a job and come home each evening for dinner. I arrive at the
same time on the same train to give my family a sense of order.
I obey traffic signals. I am cordial to strangers, I answer my
mail promptly. I keep a balanced checking account. Why can’t I
live forever?
poem by David Ignatow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Darkness And Light
i would like to arrive not at the point
when darkness and light
chase and fight each other
when they grapple with who's right
and who's fit to survive
on the cycle of life
i like to arrive at the time when
they stop and arrive at a compromise
to live in peace together
not that the light stays on the right
not that darkness stays on the left
for that would still be divisive
i like them fuse into a certain hue
so pleasing to the eyes of all confused men
dusk, dawn, a dawning light, grey
the coolness of twilight, midway, between coming and departure
standing still, a gaze of the star and the coming of a new day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Other Friday At Five
(steven dale jones)
One out of two aint gonna make it
Those are the odds these days
And in a world of statistics
Hes left tryin to survive
til every other friday at five
He counts the days and then the hours
til he can hold his babies in his arms
And theyll be watchin out the window
When he pulls up in the drive
On every other friday at five
For forty-eight hours theyre with him again
But on sunday afternoon hes out of time
Some folks call him a deserter but his kids know hell arrive
On every other friday at five
So lets not put em in the middle
And play tug-of-war with their little hearts
But let mamas and daddies
Smile hello and wave goodbye
On every other friday at five
For forty-eight hours theyre with him again
But on sunday afternoon hes out of time
Some folks call him a deserter but his kids know hell arrive
On every other friday at five
And theyll be watchin out the window
When he pulls up in the drive
On every other friday at five
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Day's
Yesterday It has came and gone
Once again secretly it has left us behind
Now all we have is regrets and past wishes
And the many dreams we never did find.
Those days are now part of our memory
While we might think back to why didn't I
But then remorse we will always remember
While we always question ourselves just why.
Tomorrow it will never be here
As tomorrow will always be tomorrow
That is were we put our dreams and our hopes
And where we escape from our sadness and sorrow.
It is the days that we do dread
And the days that we hope and pray to arrive
Where love is held and deadlines our met
But some how they never do survive.
Today is all that we are guaranteed
As we are promised no future or even past
We are here now so we much cherish that
As in the end that is all that might ever last.
We must live and learn by the day
So we must enjoy every second that we live
Never to put off till tomorrow do it today
As today is the only day that we hold captive.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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World can be wiped out
The inner soul can never lie.
Even when the black nights die
Encourage bright sun to arrive.
That shall face shine to revive
With blessings from God
Remains no tension, worry or load
Lord may help in our true endeavor
Save the dignity and value of honor
We are always grateful
Pray for to be successful
Bow head for peace and grace
Difficulties if that arrive in case
Trust on beautiful hands
That is meant for helping till the end
We have no vision inside
But certainly ask for vision to guide
Candle may light dimly
It may not have power of sun beam or likely
Yet that may take you to some distance
Until wind blows it off by chance
Wish for global happiness
We may not be lucky if that is lost in any case
We want people to survive from any kind of fear
We have lost patience for such painful memory to bear
Still people suffer World War II shocks
Now they lost all hopes and run out of stocks
Let those events be repeated or take place
To wipe out precious lives along with entire races
Are we meant for to be lost in such way?
Are we testing weapons of mass destruction to stay?
Is it not prelude for leading to self destruction?
We have turned deaf and want sophisticated induction
It is reveled "world can be wiped out many more times"
Still weapons will be left to exercise more for future times
Who will suggest and to whom is million rupees question
We, as poets, can hardly dream and present it with imagination
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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