slowly, our ways part.
we used to be a pair of bangs.
beautiful hair, many talk about us
then we slowly part,
it is a style and people love it too
the neighbors talk for a while.
but the parting looks good
it's trendy.
then it rains and the hair
become fragile hands grasping
every skin on the forehead.
the parting is forgotten.
each lock is busy on saving itself.
trying to survive with what is so cold.
these are the days.
the sunshine is gone.
and people do not mind anymore.
they too have hair problems of their own
whatever is the trend
bangs or parting or sheen
go on.. until the falling, until the head
takes pride of
being bald...another trendy thing.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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