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Sunday came and went… I know I am closing all doors in and out. Trapping oneself is not a good idea always. But there are times it is better to trap inside a box. I am trapping myself inside my own Poetrybox.



One night with one dream filled,

Upon on the center table from the couch I rolled,

With the sounds of things falling down I woke,

“Good Timing” said I after the falling laptop I saved.


The dream from my mind by itself erased,

As the day bit by bit in front of me cleared,

A day meant for many wonderful souls,

Not a day for a soul like mine, with all wrong filled.


Joked around through the afternoon,

But the spiritual mind in all calm stayed,

As deep inside the spiritual self I know,

I am a clown who failed to make others laugh.


Sunday boredom through the evening came,

The summer sun dance in the blazing heat I enjoy not,

As sweat wet my uneven cut hair.

Internet chats and phone calls, Oh’ they never stop,

The chatters changed one after the other,

Everyone talked about the heat wave that wrapped around,

Though none about the heat in the soul cared,

I looked around and thought,

Days of storms, Oh’ where are they?


Even nights don’t cool the flesh,

That wrap around the soul that felt a thirst,

When closing my eyes for sleep I prayed,

Oh’ No more dreams that makes my life unrealistic.



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