Poems

All poems have wings

May be each one sings

As a cascade or a weeping willow

Some Phoenix types always glow.

Imageries are their costumes

Full of coloured plumes

Where do they fly? 

Only in the bright sky 

Of a few

Posterity may be in a queue

For rebirth 

Of the Bard of earth.

Most nominal birds get lost

In rain, heat or frost.

Oh the Muse of Life

My strife

Is to flow

Like you, today- tomorrow.