Poem 163 - Early Country Morning

Standing on the farm, early at six

Dew drops on flowers and grass, cold frosted morning

Happy to be visiting the farm today

Cows moo, sheep baa, hens cluck and birds sing

All animals happy, cows give lots of milk

Hens cluck, farmer's wife collects good quality eggs

Sun shines, it seems to be happy, as men toil at the fields

I look at my hands, little dirty, I have soil covered legs

My thoughts jiggled, as I wandered near the flower beds

Oh! What a place this is - a farm

A place where you can get dirty, but have fun

Without much harm

-Gaurang Rao

Written for - http://themethursday.blogspot.com/

and -http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

Poem 162 - The Masked Secrets

Mask on the wall, looking straight at my eye

Artistic colors, a nice black and white

So creepy, who knows what those eyes lie

Keep distance from those eyes, they glows at night

Ever glowing eyes, with its evil look

Death scaring lips, which carry a wild smile

Slightly white crooked nose, my head I shook

Eek! Is it fake, or a mask that is fragile

Colored spots on the face, they're black and good

Read its unseen mind, what is it thinking?

Evil face it has, does not even eat food

Throw it away, for it is disturbing

Scary mask now gone, its in the garbage

Now I confess I threw it in a rage

-Gaurang Rao

Written for - http://magpietales.blogspot.com/

and - http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/

Poem 161 - Tears of anger

Standing there alone and sad, shivering in the cold

Walked to the cold bench sat on it, teeth chattering away

Deep in thoughts of sad memories, he felt himself getting angry

He had done nothing, when he saw them dying, on the bench he did lay

All that came to his mind was the scene of their death

He tried not to think of them, he felt like he had ruined his life

He didn't go back to his home, he didn't want the memories

Sad, angry, lonely, without his own daughter and wife

Looked at the sky, shouted, screamed and cried from his heart

Tears rolled down his cheek to his chin

He remembered, how he played with his daughter

And how his wife's heart he did win

Of the millions and millions of people, why just him

Crying tears of hatred, towards himself, he cried out loud and sad

Again the memories captivated him, as he stood on the road

Car came on the road killed him, enough of his respected life he had had

-Gaurang Rao

Written for -http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

and - http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

and -http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/

Poem 160 - A Chess Game

Sitting there, eyebrows frowned thinking of, a move that can be played

My opponent, after much indecision, a move he made

Now I had two options, either to kill his bishop or knight

After I took his bishop, he too did fight

He brought his pawn to the last line, where he lends his pawn and borrows a queen

He gave me a check, which I had neither thought of, nor seen

After escaping the check, the fate of my queen was decided after he killed it right there

He finally gave me a checkmate, which was fair and square

Before he'd given me the checkmate, only my lonely king stood

It stood there, looking scared but good

The handshake at the end, ended our game

It was an interesting match, but my opponent won all the same.

By the way, I have mentioned all the chess pieces except for one. If you know it please leave it with your comment.

-Gaurang Rao

Written for - http://themethursday.blogspot.com/

and -http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com/

and -http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

and -http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

Poem 159 - Vanamahotsava

Vanamahotsava is a day on which, all Indians are supposed to plant and save trees. It is done, as many forests are being cut down and animals are dying. It is to remind us, how much trees are worth.

Saving trees is our responsibility

Death of a tree can lead to a calamity

Cut one tree, plant five more

Cutting even a branch, is like cutting your house's door

Less things of wood should be made

We should always be there for any tree's aid

Cutting a tree, is like stopping someone from being alive

It can be a bird and its nest, or a bee and its hive

Plant a tree whether you are an Indian or not

Don't let the Earth die and rot

If we don't save trees, for the next generation it is not fair

So every tree we must love and give it lots of care

-Gaurang Rao

Poem 158 - A Rainy Day

Rainy Day, Umbrellas are up

Sipping hot coffee in a cup

Reading a newspaper and watching the rain

The farmer is happy, the potter is in pain

Making my socks sticky and muddy

When the rain falls the umbrella is my buddy

Car drives by splashes water on me

People smile, as my muddy shoes I see

I go back home, wash my legs thoroughly

It is time to eat hot food and watch T.V

As the rain passes to the next town

On my bed, sleepy and tired I break down

-Gaurang Rao

Poem 157 - A Cloudy Dream

Flying in a cloud, more like a boat, people seem to have oars

I see other clouds, I hear a soft sound, sitting next to me a man snores

We seem to be going in a round, but from below I hear no noise

Down I see, rivers and woods, "Hold on to the boat" says a voice

I turn around to see a man, looking similar to god, guiding the boat

Am I going to heaven? But for now with these people, I'd like to float

Though I am flying in the air I don't feel strange now

I was even expecting the moon to be covered by a flying cow

A nasty wind blows a woman's shawl away

It disappears in another cloud, as the boat does sway

Suddenly the wonderful dream does cease

There is no more nasty wind, just a heated -breeze

-Gaurang Rao

Written for - http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com

and - http://magpietales.blogspot.com

and - http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

and -http://www.threewordwednesday.com

and -http://themethursday.blogspot.com/