TantamountA Poem by Ezhar HPoor is dying,will die.
All will accept and do sigh. Pity on graves always lay lie. Along with chances spirits go high. Tomorrow is here and today good bye. Cannon on fire burst the sky. Selfish button needles go ply,so stick at nigh. Heralding tasks present the curd and create a pie. Lofty dagger seals at best to endure the sly. © 2015 Ezhar H |
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Added on February 12, 2015Last Updated on February 12, 2015 AuthorEzhar HKolkata, IndiaAboutBeing a struggler of organised visual story telling reading past and trying to establish view points regarding the present form where the future uncertainty may pondered through philosophical and imag.. more..Writing
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