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Lakshya Singh Poem
My pride stands untouched by money
Oh! my boss I don`t want to sound funny
Stains of greed can`t undermine my passion
Its my style, my ultimate fashion.
Can`t afford to be a slave for few bills and rents
Can`t undermine my freedom for few dollars and cents
No need of a bungalow at your mercy
To earn a quarter more with a stupid controversy.
I love to work and hate to be a slave
It will be my attitude till my solitary grave
I need a life where I have wings to be free
I stand adamant like a firm tree
I don`t need a Porsche or a Rolls Royce
Like a golden caged bird Oh! my boss
My freedom is something that you can`t rob
Oh! boss I don`t need your job.
Copyright © Lakshya Singh | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Lakshya Singh Poem
I was paving towards the old banyan tree
Where the moonlight was cursed
To these solitary paths my heart was unversed
Fear embraced and didn`t let me go free.
The hanging roots were a witch`s hair
The mournful leaves tickled my hands
And my legs ran errands
The scene created looked rare
Then when I touched the expressive stem
I was pushed to a brightly lit place
Where every creature dazzled with grace
And worn a crown of an innocent gem.
Still a found a love in their heart
No stains of selfishness I found
With joy and glee I was bound
An unearthly place I found just few metres apart.
I murmured," Where the hell I am, in dark beams?"
A voice replied,"Its a place where you stepped at your will recently
And you will leave soon and with a smile,decently
Its a world you weave, its your creativity, its a world of dreams".
Copyright © Lakshya Singh | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Lakshya Singh Poem
In darkness absolute I sit
Amidst thousands of waxy candles lit.
My heart beat echoes here and ends
Whispers emerge, strike and bend.
Tik-tok-tik the time rattles
Sh-Shh eternal silent battles
Mournful breeze touching my skin
A fish floating without a fin.
A reservoir of dreams, everyday flood away
Glee and grin Oh! a fantasy bay.
Cursed wealth of tears is all what I own
I am a weed along with a fertile crop sown.
I peep through my window of hopes lost.
pristine air that blew once now stand as polluted frost
I Wait for sunshine for this brightly lit place of no spark.
Its the window of an old age home and here its all dark!!!
Copyright © Lakshya Singh | Year Posted 2016
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