Butterfly
I wandered lonely, but aimly,
In the orchard to suck the honey
In the fruits with my small mouth.
My wings are different colors
It shows the quality of mine
Children likes me, because
The attraction of my wing color.
I stroll in earth , for a honey
There, I saw a child
Both of us took a glance
Then, he came to catch me,
But I ran fastly
He planned to catch me
The child shown me a cup of honey,
I forget the celestial world and his plan
In a delight, in a moment, I sucked the honey,
Then, almost I filled my belly, I fly
Alas!!! But I can’t
The playful and cruel child, closed
In a bottle, now I’m
Surveying for air…again
The cruel child came and saw me…
He took the scissor and opened the lid
He cut my beautiful wings, almost
I dead, lastly I thought
Some people like enchanting objects
Like my wing but some of them
Like to spoil, like the urchin…
U.S.AURROBINDHAN
What Colour?
What colour are the oceans?
On warm summer days the oceans are crystalline blue, with bright streaks
Of ivory flouting on the crest of each wave just before it crashes down
Into total oblivion!
And what colour are the mountains that enkindle a dying sun?
The mountains are bright red, like a burning ember in the flame
Of fire off our multimillion mile star, as it slowly dips to rest
Till the morning!
Oh what colour is a new born child?
A child holds the beauty of youth in colours that span the years of its parents
Age, until the greying colour of passing seasons takes away the child in us all.
And what colour is the moon above us?
In late fall the moon flickers in shades like lucent charcoal as it slowly cools,
Then turns to black!
What colour are our hopes, what colour are our dreams?
Nevermore are our hopes mixed in the colour of our dreams, for in wake our
Soul equates the mind for a second then is gone.
And what colour stands for the worth of our lives?
The motionless quiet waits silent, bound between colours more radiant then our past
But still more mysterious then our future
By M. Norton