For my lovely Debate Partner Sneha
(2014)
This is day 13 of my month long Rondelet marathon! I wrote this in light of procrastination of my debate partner and I! I understand this is more of a personal level poem so, my apologies.
#DebateFailurePartnerPreparednessProcrastinationRondelet
Not everything good will be commemorated Not everything in fact, really, not anything. Compared to nature of sedated
Your contentment is an illusion Not to say your existence is bulls… But it’s hardly reality as it shou… We all have heard some persuasion of what manipulates us, it
Gracious, have I ever been so los… Stumbling, over and over, I begin… My words are my shield and sword,… Damn, why don’t you see what I se… Love has never been a choice for m…
Why go outside when one can buy what the world sh… Why go outside? Rain sounds far better when I’m d… Perhaps one can’t smell the roses
Aches that echo through every land for all ages. Aches that echo through all people that time has e… In old bare Ireland it raged,
Arbitrary and, I guess, insignificant Arbitrary makes me revolutionary. One time around, for me, glinting
He’s a 'poet’ but most would rather call it pros… He’s a 'poet’ Still somehow nobody knows it. Literary elements? Close.
Sit back, relax And enjoy the projected show. Sit back, relax, See old legends now in IMAX. Retelling of tales already known.
Child-like mind still beyond my comprehension. Child-like mind raises worlds—surpass the divine. He’s released from the detention
Seated upon spring green spires Ironic, bears for it don’t desire. Conical stone hides Wistful wisps inside. They reside
I’m not tired— alternatively, I’m forfeit. I’m not tired; Sleep won’t solve this I’ve acqui… Problems luring to their orbit
Runaway vein why must you escape their blunt pr… Runaway vein one would think you would restrain fluidity to blood that flows
Four part cycle The best mark is leaves– rise and… Four part cycle Water falls, pools, to icicles. The cardinal winds always call
It’s not over. Russian, Japanese, African— It’s not over. We think it’s gone, it’s just olde… Don’t dismay, though Love it can.
If that were all I’d rest, speak to myself solely. If that were all I could delight in pretty song. Truly, it’s the cries of wings, lo…