Poem Hunter
PN ( / Kerala)


Anxieties and angry cries, pounding horns-
hot metal and black smoke
Glaring lights, damning curses and dense fog
Yes, I'm in a traffic block

Hither and thither they move around,
hitting, scraping and beeping loud
Thru every clearance they manouvre
As if constipation is all over

Often thought with spirits low,
where do these poor bastards go
Next Day they come to this very place
And race against in bloody maze

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Comments (1)

conceived in a traffic pain of the garden city around the sounds of exploding engines