OF BEAUTY
weather doth adorn her grace
.rain doth pour her zillion charity...
Oft, she lingers with her solemn face.
.Heavenly sermons lack that gravity!
Aye, all ye poets so supreme!
thy words speaketh but substance,
HER whisper..an orbed face's gleam
.is a canvass for art enhanced!
HER fancy is a dream of youth...
Saint becomes of a man uncouth.
---------shwetank.
.rain doth pour her zillion charity...
Oft, she lingers with her solemn face.
.Heavenly sermons lack that gravity!
Aye, all ye poets so supreme!
thy words speaketh but substance,
HER whisper..an orbed face's gleam
.is a canvass for art enhanced!
HER fancy is a dream of youth...
Saint becomes of a man uncouth.
---------shwetank.
posted by shwetank at
5:53 PM
3 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
By
Atanu, at 3:36 PM
Why
By
Atanu, at 6:29 PM
What the hell happened to Shwetank --the pessimist...hey things are looking up for sure, Junta! Sharmaji is saying..'up up and away'
By
Atanu, at 6:33 PM
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