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Sonnet 216

From face to everything, this book's uncatchable

Speed, what Mark, when he concocted it,
Hadn't any inkling, and can't himself be able

To hold it back from making its own writ,

On its each verso and on its each recto,

With the pleasure pen of humanity

And in inks of black and red and yellow;

As Mark can't but stare at his upfront discovery

Guiding the sapiens sapiens to a region

Of light and, too, misguiding by abetment

With fun and frolic, through disinformation --

A deathknell in the garb of entertainment.

Beware, a double-edged sword is Facebook --

A benefactor, and 'so a dauntless crook.

Comments

KISS ME, PLEASE!

Woo-hoo...! Kisss you...u...u...u...??? Oh, I'm being frenzical !!! My slavering tongue is jerking fast And my quivering lips are pouting out With booms of kisses in the air -- Ummah...! Ummah...! Ummah...! Just yesterday, an okay got my promise. Today is the chance no way to miss. And ready is my basket with pecks, Lip-locks, French kisses, and other varieties... I'm also ready for the lizard kiss, And the kiss of the Spider man... And I'm sure I won't beg like Big B -- (Juma, chumma de de chumma...), This is my right to kiss I earn'd this week. I shall kiss like one Dhoom 2's Hritthik-Aash's, Although I envy Emraan's 'Murderous' thriller kiss... I'm ready with my balmy lips, Strawberry flavour'd, To be the biggest smoocher Of do hazaar chhabees... And I have hidden the cracks On my wintry lips To save from rashes My Valentine's softy cheeks... Well with flushed up teeth, With cleaned up tongue, With exotic ...

THE CHILDREN OF GAZA

The Children Of Gaza A Blank Verse Thundering in the sky, then rain of missiles... See how they are fleeing arms outstretched Like the broken wings of storm-hit birds, And see their faces white with fear and hunger And hear their throbbing voice of pain and loss... Over their head, the sky's no kites, no clouds, But fire and fire amidst engulfing smoke, And they are running like the Napalm girl From Vietnam or standing frozen, like The standing boy from Nagasaki, before Their elders who are whispering in fear Or staring helpless in the gauge of Death... They are the hapless children caught in the war zone. They have no home, no school, no ground of freedom, But sole refugee camps and hospitals If marching death has spared them of their life. They hear not bedtime tales but sirens of death. For them,...

THE RETURN : RHYME 100

The Return Rhyme 100 Infants gambol about their home With blooms and toys, But they return to mom's bosom For the real joys. Children frolic about the streams, In meads and hedges, But to their home they return for Their real flowerage. Youths do rush about crazy for World's whole treasure, But they return for real living To own life and career. Adults get sunk into the labour With dedication, But this's the return to raise well Their own children. The old trudge about the yard Of their nursing shed, But lastly they return for rest To their death bed. ©️ N P Samal

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