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 Jun 2015 Nithya Venkat
Skaidrum
"Irony is as simple as drawing trees on paper."
© Copywrited.
I can't sleep until I hear the birds.
To remind me that waking up is worth singing about.
Waves of darkness and death,
that rush (awake)
and take (away) your breath
The wind whispers in soft, lilting echoes;
that enchant and linger the presence of idle stars and graceful jasmines;
on a musky summer midnight
Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.
The petals fall in the fountain,
the orange-coloured rose-leaves,
Their ochre clings to the stone.
As a bathtub lined with white porcelain,
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid,
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion,
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.
 Jun 2015 Nithya Venkat
C E Ford
When did you stop loving me, he asked.
When you started noticing, she said.
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