Ananta Madhavan

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Thursday, July 3, 2014

Epistle To Fellow-Scribblers Comments

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Poetry is fine when it comes unbidden, like Sleep.
Muse must be wooed, like Sleep on a night
Of Insomniac Jubilee, marking the hours.
'It is 1.15 now. How many hours to go before I dream? '
...
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Ananta Madhavan

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Ananta Madhavan

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