the village woman at mustard fields by the lake
that day took a detour with a handful of noon
spilled pot wet
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lurching brass on the hip i mumbled over her ringing anklets she arched and smiled waved and turned back........with a handfull of noon...... mystery is in your coinage of words trying to express the inexpressible........ that was my feeling as i read your poem.. thank u dear poet. tony
Write comment. Great start, Utpal. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks
Beautiful rendition of words to utmost justice — lovely and very passionate write. I feel inspired by your style of writing. Remain enriched.