slogans of these triumphant lost battles

cry out aloud at my threshold

I sit typing my tears

and the peacocks strutter

in the garden filled bloomed with  fantasies

rolls and rolls of freshly starched fabric

dance at their fingers

they chose the colors and the texture

to drape their fallen deformed shapes

 

 

ashamed of my naked staunch stupidity

I wonder how much more can I be amused

this forgery of intentions

the sheer apathy for those who walk by

nothing beats their enthusiasm…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Pritpal Kaur
Pritpal Kaur
A television journalist turned writer I have been writing short stories and poetry for almost twenty five years. Masters in Physics and Education, turned to Television journalism and gradually shifted to full time writing. Taught physics for a year at University of agriculture. Meanwhile worked for All India Radio as announcer. Reported for “Parakh” and later worked with NDTV. Got into professional writing somewhere along the line. Have also produced documentaries for television and radio.