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Prakash Nair

Poetry must be your art

Desire is your first name - Love
Sadness must be your last
Yearning is in middle -
to cuddle these men in black

Death makes your epic
Poetry must be your art
Orgasm is your myth
for ages thats been your trick

Heart is where your battles are fought
The spleen must be your powderhouse
Kiss of lips is your flagship, targets-
from where you randomly pick

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Six foot three-inch horse

Ride alone on your six foot three-inch horse,
To shores where we pined to be together
In nights when trails of the mist-
Cools off that heat of the moon

Ride alone on your six foot three-inch horse,
To evening skies we’ve dreamt from the terrace
Like a jet, like an arrow, ride through the wind
Behold the air, smell my blood

Ride alone on your six foot three-inch horse,
Not once, never meant to be together
I’ll never make it without you
Those skies, those shores, foregone – forever

poem by Prakash NairReport problemRelated quotes
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