Oh! My mother, sues thy sole cell daughter, An unborn baby, before its loving lover- Prays it to dad, thy, my best creative will- “Let me come, not look at me- thy angry shrill!” Oh! Doc. You dog! You dig dream deep death grave! God be thy, not fret by thy pious crepe. Listen! Pray I, to the future bearers- “Why you all do love those little fathers!”
And what if I be that womanish dare- To ask if Gods have all, Goddesses less care! But still looks read Books, all those Pandits may- Have less than mean heart which knowledge too nay. For a human form from a shape lotus- Turns thoughtless ship to fix the doom fetus!
Look at the flying creatures, They feed freely, No cash needed nor sweat for gain, Yet you of little faith, Worry belittles your faith in your Creator, It keeps you far from him, like the earth & heaven is, If
Freedom an aftermath of martyrdom,a mark of remembrance, A status of solace to be free from heartrending surveillance. But, Jasmine, the fallen pleasure on the road dust Stares at me with a plea to lift her tenderly, To save her
Swing of the sundial and capricious collapse my soul left vexed at the precipice of night vacant stare from the dew of dawn damned my inexorable fate and despite! Insular folds they threatened to burst though stimulant swam in the