The colour has no caste no religion
Just fetterless as a crowned pigeon,
The sun never marks any division
What's red, green, black or saffron.
All the colour is a single entity,
Like the author's artistic creativity;
And upon the asleep city
The moon mirrors itself - the beauty.
The colour is a life of how to live-
Taking a role of a new leaf,
It is a sugarcoated rose you sip
How orphean! Do believe.
Money is not a verb to the colour
That a poet knows very well:
A girl of not going to parlour
She is pretty still, at cottage dwell.
Just fetterless as a crowned pigeon,
The sun never marks any division
What's red, green, black or saffron.
All the colour is a single entity,
Like the author's artistic creativity;
And upon the asleep city
The moon mirrors itself - the beauty.
The colour is a life of how to live-
Taking a role of a new leaf,
It is a sugarcoated rose you sip
How orphean! Do believe.
Money is not a verb to the colour
That a poet knows very well:
A girl of not going to parlour
She is pretty still, at cottage dwell.
-
Author:
UJJAL MANDAL (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 26th, 2024 07:13
- Category: Religion
- Views: 2
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.