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Tuesday, 24 June 2008
My Travelogues
Friday, 13 June 2008
An Interesting Poem
In the Rain
The grey shapes loom stealthily across the azure,
they crackle, growl and whimper over every house and moor.
The sudden downpour,
the wet streets and its rythmic beats,
it plays nature's music.
All get wet, rags or riches.
All get wet, in the rain.
Huddled into the warmth of a trash bin,
sits a small soul, neither cover nor any kin.
All she yearns for is, not a cozy room with a foamy bed
but, a tattered brolly to cover her head,
to exist and live it out,
in the rain.
Bright their features, warm their moods,
a twinkle in their eyes and noses flat against the panes.
All they yearn for is, not warmth, nor a foamy bed
but, to kick at the puddles
to get wet and play it out, in the rain.
All get wet...in the rain.
Copyright ©2008 Vinay Kalyan Parakala
The grey shapes loom stealthily across the azure,
they crackle, growl and whimper over every house and moor.
The sudden downpour,
the wet streets and its rythmic beats,
it plays nature's music.
All get wet, rags or riches.
All get wet, in the rain.
Huddled into the warmth of a trash bin,
sits a small soul, neither cover nor any kin.
All she yearns for is, not a cozy room with a foamy bed
but, a tattered brolly to cover her head,
to exist and live it out,
in the rain.
Bright their features, warm their moods,
a twinkle in their eyes and noses flat against the panes.
All they yearn for is, not warmth, nor a foamy bed
but, to kick at the puddles
to get wet and play it out, in the rain.
All get wet...in the rain.
Copyright ©2008 Vinay Kalyan Parakala
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