It was a cool and lucky day for them,
But it was hot and black summer to me.
He framed a special music for the day,
She moulded her tears in to my way.
Two solitary stars at once I saw,
Both were mixture of Beauty and Tongue.
The Beauty I knew was innocent,
The Tongue was strange and spicy.
Madam spicy levelled a compliant to authority,
With her immoral reason and sentiment of duty.
It was a pre plan for this day,
A tiny gyre formed for the black day.
It was not gyre of Yeats,
But had a vast formation of Vysa's taste.
Though the name appeared hundreds of years past,
But had the trace and face till the last.
Authority and its members were in recycles,
For the haunt tears and band of disciples.
Blind with pride and fooled by haste,
Future reserved to speechless fate.
Though I am a creature of this nature,
I have my pride still undended.
I cannot toil blindly to this nature,
Because the Almighty is still in this creature.
Every horror has tis definition,
Every sorrow has a kind of end.
Alas! till now i had not known,
My guide and fortune's guide are one,
As the revolutions work without a murmur.
abhimanyu kumar.s
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-wednesday/
