Sunday, 6 September 2015

I hope

In the midst of blistering summer noon , I hope for rain,
In the thick of wrenching sorrow, I hope for no pain,
When confronted with insurmountable loss, I hope for gain,
Faced with poverty and famine, I hope for riches and grain,

And when forced to race , I invariably pray for a sprain,
Air travel sickens me , I always hope for a ride by the train,
My chaotic verses resemble a defunct or a  derailed train

The thought processes have refused to soar,
I had hoped for a great earth shaking roar,
But , look at me, I ended as a deadened bore.

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