Short Vc Poems

Sir – dearest V.C.,
A freed representor asks:
(Now wipe off your streams, first!)
“Tell all the lads & lasses
Who owns those dark faces
Borne by the cars in that dark night:
Tell the ears of the forest,
Else, this long solace shall ring in vain,
They are not preferred to the insecure life!”...

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At this juncture
Of vehement condolences
At this juncture
Of false reproaches
The vendors did not venture a plea
Yet the gods are still waiting
In their uncertain shrine –

Dearest V.C. –
Some celebrate in it still
Some calibrate in it still
The forest mourns the logs;
Salute the ill-bands of vigilantes
Who daily shock the peace –
Thanks: yours roused & watch-lad!...

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Darest V.C. –
We all heard of the flute of the regency,
Tho’ it told of a few in the house-pital:
Yet we know it was the exordium!

Darest V.C. –
Tell the vergers of the gods,
The forest is expecting
The full exegesis of the gods;

She was heir to the heavy blows 
– The heinous death of the sons –
The mothers & the concubines sigh
For a loss of kindred tears,
And restless fathers hover in waiting forests....

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Memories are like flowers
When the bright petals fall
The heart is webbed by powers
Of seeds growing at the wall
And so the times your lashes
Dance, with every smile and glance
The heart giggles and splashes
Drunken from sips of chance
To breathe your beauty 
And believe your flirting
While in the pew of sanity
I hide the subtle hurting
What was that desire, that love bright
That still come haunting me last night?...

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Sir – dearest Vicar,
Tho’ you failed to tell
Those that faces in that dark night,
The gods had called the birds 
Fresh from the forced excursions!

Sir – dearest V.C.,
Now, this is another false re-approach: 
Demanding cowries from the birds
For the corns they ate not!
Why are the initial clouds being moved again?

Sir – dearest Vicar,
Free all the caged representors
– We need peace in the communal nest! –
Thanks: yours freed representor....

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Sir – darest V.C.,
Good was the morning speech:

This early morning of grand rhetorics!
Our bald pundit speaks
With the croaking voice of varsity toads;

– The bard’s throat seems
Cracking under the dregs of singing
The solace of a long long speech!

Sir – darest V.C.,
Wipe off those streams of sweat
That brim the banks of the blank face first!

Are you a father?
Then a paternal for others’ kids? 
Haba! are these smiles themselves or images?...

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Darest V.C. –
Did not we notice their appearance?
Did not we hear the elders speak?

Darest V.C. –
We saw their assorted trumpets
With assorted chameleon voices they came;

Some: mere relics of the ancient tree;
Some: mere effigies of the orient tree;
Some: mere voices of the occident tree;

From far off the vendors spoke
 – Performing rustic rites in city shrines! –

Darest V.C. –
Then spoke the vendors to the heavy ears of the gods:
“Let the birds to the communal nest again.”...

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