Poetry is something which defies logic n creates dreams, at least for me. I dunno how successful I am in realising that, but one thing I know for sure is that the vision is there.
Here follows one of those from earlier times:-
A New Year Encounter
Watch the bland darkness of the night
fading away
Giving way to a new dawn
of anticipation and exhilaration
Making everyone abound with cheer.
Ya! It's the arrival of a new year.
With the same gusto of feelings,
I woke up on the premier day.
What a morning it was,
Everything pretty and looking gay
Making a heap of promises to myself
I decided to celebrate it the best way.
I went for a stroll by the city lane
To behold the beauty and resplendence
Novelty was pouring in from everywhere
Drawing auguries of hope and cheer.
I was pleased to see the newness
Which the year was to witness
And with an exultant heart
I sauntered along to the next part
What a dreary sight it was!
All cluttered up with muck and mayhem
Having no sign of mirth or merriment
It was the slums colony
Tawdry and squalid
Infested by the poorest of beings
The year may be new
But they are the same old
All tattered up with poverty, disease and agony
And residing in solitude from the multitude
My whole ecstasy was vanished
and flabbergasted to see the paradox,
I wondered,
What newness has this new year
brought for us?
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