Who bent the rainbow?
Was beauty it's lure?
Bent like a bow,
can't use it as a boat
to sail across the universe.
Utility, not beauty,
is important.

The conch was blown.
The air vibrated.
The birds spread their wings and took off.
Life began to grind its gears again,  
wars, deaths, and elopements became headlines once more.

My blood is red
Your blood is red
Everywhere, blood is red
Why then there is so much bad blood ?

If you weren't a Poet you wouldn't have coveted my heart; it's  beauty hidden from the naked eye.

I am not a frontline revolutionary.
I am a total backstage hypocrite.

The pauses you took were more soothing to me than your speech.

Why did you always react in silence?

...,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

When notable people perished in the calamity,

life was making big a statement about who is in charge of human destiny.

Don't panick till problem reaches your neck.
Then just trust God with the rest.

I dwelled on you without taking a breath.
Your hushed silence was too hard to conquer.
There was no headway in sight.
I gave up  on a reunion with you.
Anything hard to break  isn't worth keeping.

I tumbled down the sky like a space scrap after you tossed me out of your orbit, plunging into a sea of despair.
Although I don't see any lifeboats approaching, sharks have picked up on my scent.

The lonely beautiful flower.
The lonely uninterested bee.
The lonely lingering silence.
The lonely soul watching.
The lonely universe abounds.

I became an Aurora when you failed to see me in the Sun light.

Failure doesn't seeketh the reasons.
Success doesn't belieth the efforts.

I couldn't take my mind off you.

I couldn't break through your hushed silence.

I realized the road ahead was impassable.

I  am no longer hopeful of seeing you.

I know now anything hard to break
is not worth pursuing.

Your writings have become known for their brevity. When it came to attacking those who disagreed with the ideas contained in your writings, though, you lacked that trait.

History is distorted to fit the facts, not the other way around.

It's all done by the name.
Elephants and ants know it.

I just drank half of your cup of woes.
My cup of woes is now full.
Will you going to drink half of it?

The day's only illuminating star.
You drank the darkness of night and life as soon as you awoke.
Lead us to the point where the horizon meets the sky.
We wish to rise above the specter of pain.

Under the full moon light, bored and hungry street dogs disrupted elders' discussions about life's ups and downs.

Interspersed by the wandering clouds, the moon looked on.


The end of the day's activities was  signalled by the abrupt conclusion of the conversations.

Night took over life as day retired from view.

Your puzzled expression at the award ceremony showed the agony you had undergone due to your mental exile from reality, while composing your poetry on occultism.

Your life has entered a decadent
phase, with the loss of ability ­to write morally captivating  stories that 
existed only in your imagination.

Do not attempt to resurrect our long-dead passion.

Allow it to be remain buried in our memories.

Since your story aids the reader in 
arriving at that conclusion,­ they found
some characters in your story, who 
you said were inspired by real peo­ple, 
seemed to be more civilized and
tolerable than their real-life 
counterp­arts.

You successfully rubbed your pessimistic view of the world on those who happened to converse with you accidentally, leaving them with little hope for a better future,
besides convincing them that your perception of the world was more accurate than theirs.

I am not an advocate of peace.
But I want to understand
why there was a disagreement
in the first place.

I made life with you look successful
 by making all your transgressions 
seem absurd before the people who 
mattered to us.

Disappointment is often a companion of hope.

I'm not as smart as you are, but I'm not a knucklehead to believe it all of the time.

You came into my life as a cool breeze, but quickly turned into a headwind, halting my progress. I've now turned into a tailwind for you.

For decades, I lived as a human being with a large group of humans without social symbols, utterly unaware of the presence of several social guiding forces.

These guiding forces have now imprinted social symbols on us.

It has driven all the group members apart.

I don't know whether this  is reality or illusion?

Your eyes focussed only on sweet things that life had on offer. It was no surprise when Ants emerged from your eyes as they were on a sweet trail.

With your dream of a family, children, and a happy home, you defused my exploding dreams.

I fell for it because it seemed within my grasp.

I let myself be recognized more for my failures to seize opportunities for personal gain by doing things that my betinoirs wanted me to do, which benefited them and a large number of others, than for not doing things that benefited no one.

Prior to Pandemic:  My life was in a state of limbo.

During Pandemic: Life is in a state of limbo.

Your desire to live a long life stems from a desire to leave an indelible mark on history, for otherwise, like an ant crushed to death by an unrepentant human, your insignificant life will be forgotten by all.

My grave tale has spun out of control after you put a viscous spin on it, and it has now inundated me with grief.

Kanna, I forgot my tiredness and disdain for life when I saw your rediant face.

Life is an experience that ultimately teaches you that you didn't have to mess around with it like you did.

I decided against marrying you since our genetic tests predicted the birth of a child who could be genetically predisposed to perpetrate genocide-level abuse on humanity.

Abrupt loss of imagination
After a flash of your image
before half dazed eyes.

You didn't believe me.
Nor did  I believe  you.
Our disbelief strangely
kept us together.

Poetry would be the only last resort for binding our hearts as science drives everything away from our sphere of influence.

Nobody is wrong.
For, they perform as programmed.
Free will is not granted.
Tiny ants smirk as they follow the scent,
we do the same with big nostrils.

Life greets small triumphs.
The tiny jar inside the chest
starts to fill with pride.
Pride swells and spills over.
Life goes into an overdrive.
Vision becomes hazy.
Everything looks ordinary.

And then life meets humbling moments.
The level of pride dips.
The tiny jar becomes stable.
Life returns to normal

Your poetry drew me in more than our personal encounter.

No no....
your unrequited love..
that isn't poetry.

I built a temple in response to your prayer for my undeniable love so that we could worship it together.

Your story depicted me as immoral while still endowing me with immortality.