Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 30 August, 2009

Dead Winds

Winds pass; they harass

Winds before the turmoil

Before someone pour the hot oil.

Dread and dead,

They came and fled.

They woke me up from my bed

Before the results,

Before the insults.

Before the terror catapults,

With the fire-fierce pace,

Pale dominates grace.

Scatters its wrath over my face.

The heart hops,

It beats and stops.

All that lies, latent, is hope.

If there is disaster ,then there is cope

I Passed –‘Yes’, failed – ‘Nope’.

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