Friday, November 20, 2009


When leisure is short yet idle thoughts are not,
In haste must a solution be sought;
A complicated age, won't fit in a page,
The invincible must still be fought.

The blade of rhyme flashes again, slicing great adversaries,
A pocket size edition it is, of the most exotic menageries;
Of love, of hate, of inexplicable melancholy, a poet must sing,
Cramped for space, choked for time, yet all emotions must ring.

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