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you cannot be truly called a poet unless to write at least one on nature !


Submitted:Apr 12, 2010    Reads: 71    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   


alt

I stand in my lonely balcony

wanting some solitude and calm,

Hoping that the wondrous nature

acts as a soothing balm.

I give a sigh as I stand there

soaking in her serenity,

Our selfishness has made us forget her-

Oh ! It's such a great pity.

Then as if hearing my woes

the sky changes its hues by the hiding sun,

A dazzling light streaks with a roar

and the heavy grey clouds burst open.

From them drop million glittering pearls :

falling on my face first,

Then my hands and my whole being-

as if to quench my soul's thirst.

The rain flows down my body

washing away all the gloom,

I feel like a bird about to fly,

I feel like a flower about to bloom.

We strive to hoard materialistic things:

in them we try to find happiness,

When in fact the joy obtained from mother nature

on no account is less.





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