These poems I wrote for an Event on FB where, the words being limited to twenty and has to include one word (mentioned in CAPS) from the preceding poem, made for a great string
Jeering his GENIUS,
the "Whites" gave him many;
a snub, but scant they knew,
his find ushered their moment of epiphany
- ode to Ramanujan
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Lonely lanes to venture,
bystanders leave no glance,
JUST an abandoned walking trail,
with a stranger in a strange land
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This GAME brought us all together,
like subjects of the same sultanate,
alas, but not forever,
as today is the penultimate
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Better be it,
that the games fail,
may it be ON the coffins of our high handedness,
the final nail
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The patrols pass by,
penetrating gaze - warning by each soldier,
lest there sparks wanton panic,
staring into EYES of the beholder
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Set off, jumping gun,
trusted my impish gumption,
now on a ROAD to penance,
back to a path of redemption
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Nay-sayers burn with envy,
at my poetic knack and wealth,
for those found wanting,
CLAIM work for public health
- mocking a fellow participant
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ROADS I build,
but not their routes,
pity they suffer from farsight,
despite dwelling and gazing atop palm shoots
- making fun of Mallus
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All my detractors,
who get me fuming,
I'll come up with many a repartee,
even if I hit ground RUNNING
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Like I'm drifting the backwaters,
sipping on Coconut juice,
but folks apparently FAIR,
these Kuruvillas, Matthews and Josephs confuse
- another dig at my fellow Mallu participants
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Breathing sighs of relief,
thanking God a-plenty,
as I enter here; a numerate,
pray I can count to twenty
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Motley FLIGHT of poets,
idioms and puns abound,
northerners, southerners, western, eastern,
wonder why I be the only Gulti around?
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Once an ace,
honoured often with a shawl,
now a street-dweller,
the only BLANKET will be his shroud
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FIERY head but flawless grace,
femme fatale and blissful face,
the woman of substance - for all to gaze
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New year's party,
city-bred guzzled crazy,
shamefully displayed their hedonist fangs,
village-folk whet their mouths with HUNGER pangs
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Our saving grace,
at a sport you ace,
star, so bright that shall shine-a,
pray glory at the 'Games, SAINA!
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She bumped into a stranger,
in her dreams he changed her,
deep in his thoughts she was falling,
its when it struck - it was the CALLING
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Storming the city with kalashnikovs and grenades,
taken as a prisoner of war,
he retracted when made to FACE BOOK
- on Kasab
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'Saffron terror' - the pseudo PITCH,
lack of faith or pseudo-secularists - which?
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Drifting up in a BALOON of hope,
he longs to ignite his yearning flame,
and lamp murky clouds, seeking love
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Our lips besides one another live their own;
TODAY, they speak words otherwise unkown;
for tomorrow keep mum and forlorn